Back To Temptation
by petitesorciere
Summary: Sequel to Seven Deadly Sins. Hermione and Draco meet two years on, in adverse conditions. Temptation is always present, it's just a matter of what they'll give up in order to give in.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One – ''The only problem with resisting temptation is that you may not get another chance''**

The shrill buzz of her alarm, rattling her bedside table as it jumped around, jolted her into a semi-conscious state in the same way that it did every morning. She dragged herself out of the warm, cocoon-like bed, grumbling at the brightness of the light, as she did every morning. She showered, she dressed, she bolted a cup of coffee, she made her way to work and sat behind her desk, the same way she did every morning.

Smiling at the people who bustled past her desk, she glanced at the calendar displayed in the office and felt a pang rip through her. Two years. Two whole years had gone by since that day when she had crept out of the Room of Requirements, tears rolling down her cheeks, leaving Draco sleeping angelically. Angela, passing by her desk, raised an eyebrow quizzically. ''Are you ok Hermione?''

Hermione flashed a bright smile. ''I'm fine, why?''

''You looked like you thought your world was crumbling around you.'' The older witch laughed and carried on her way.

Hermione stared down at the paper on her desk. Her world wasn't crumbling around her, she told herself firmly. She had survived two years without Draco: she had finished her year at Hogwarts, she had gone with Harry, found Horcruxes, fought in the Final Battle, watched Voldemort die, got herself a fantastic job and she had her own flat. Her life was hardly bad, she thought, as she began flicking through the latest paperwork.

The rebellious little voice in her head that she seemed to spend her life trying to silence piped up: 'it might not be a bad life, but it's hardly a good one, is it? You spend your life running from any kind of contact with men, constantly deflecting Ron's advances and you know why don't you?'

Hermione stared resolutely at the paper and began to read. ''The protection of magical….''

'Don't you dare ignore me' shrieked the little voice. 'You avoid all of these things because you know they'll interfere with the perfect little world you've created where you're with Draco every night, and he's utterly perfect.'

And I'm utterly pathetic, Hermione thought hopelessly. Two years, two whole long years, and I can't put one pathetic little boy out of my head. And it's not like I can even claim to be upset because he broke up with me, because I left him on my terms.

'And you know why you can't get him out of your head, don't you?' The little voice was taunting mercilessly now. 'It's because you love him. You love him, and you threw him away. Threw him away like he was nothing to you.'

He wasn't right for me, and you know it, Hermione told the voice firmly.

Angela, walking back past Hermione's desk, stopped in front of her, eyebrows raised. ''Hermione, I don't think I've ever seen you looking so angry.''

''Sorry…I've got a lot on mind.''

''Well,'' Daisy, who worked on the next desk, leaned over. ''Why don't you come out with us tonight? We'll take your mind off your troubles.''

Hermione thought for a minute. The hangovers that she had after going out with Daisy and her friends were usually ghastly enough to stop all brain functions for a couple of days. ''Yeah, why not?''

Later that night, Hermione tipped back her head and laughed uproariously at the sight of Daisy pulling herself up onto one of the tables in the bars and singing along to the song on. Taking another sip from her drink, she winced slightly at its strength and felt it rush straight to her head. She felt warm, fuzzy, giggly and completely disconnected from the world around her. Which is why she just smiled hazily as Daisy shouted across the bar, and beckoned to several men.

Shunting up along the seat, she examined the man sitting next to her, who had a shockingly prominent nose. She listened absentmindedly to a couple of extremely bitchy phrases running through her mind, and thought that it would probably be an excellent idea not to open her mouth in case one of the phrases came spilling out.

Daisy leaned over her and shouted to the man with the large nose. ''Simon, what are you doing here?''

''We've only just got off work and we got some news worth celebrating, so we decided to get a couple of drinks.''

''We?'' Daisy's eyes lit up with an acquisitive gleam. ''Is your friend male? And single?''

''Yeah. Why?''

''Because Hermione's single. Isn't she gorgeous?'' Daisy slurred loudly, and Hermione jolted out of her pleasantly dizzy reverie.

''I don't want to be set up with any one Daisy!''

''Oh, come on, you've been single for forever! Look here's…what's your friend's name?…Oh…Look Hermione, here's Howard!''

Hermione took one look at the gawky young man with suspiciously over-plucked eyebrows and knew that there was no way she was going to find her happily ever-after with that. After Draco, she had higher standards. Changing the subject quickly, she turned to Simon. ''So, what are you celebrating?'' It took a significant amount of effort to get the words out in a coherent sentence, and she realised that she was slightly drunker than she had thought.

Simon took a sip of his drink and sat back. ''Today we finally found one of the most elusive Death Eaters.''

''Oh, wow!'' Daisy and Hermione's reactions were more enthusiastic than was strictly necessary, but neither of the men seemed to notice. ''Who was it?''

''Malfoy.''

''Lucius Malfoy? I thought you already had him,'' Hermione said.

''We do. We got Draco Malfoy.'' Simon took another sip of his drink and turned momentarily to Howard. Hermione collapsed back into her seat, the glow from her alcohol vanquished by the cold slap of reality.

Draco? A Death Eater? It made sense, she supposed. But it was so far from every dream she had ever had about it, so far from all she had fantasized about. She had to be honest with herself, the majority of her fantasies revolved around herself bumping into Draco in some shop, and finding out that while he was just as charming, he was an entirely different person. Maybe even that he had been a spy for the Order. So to hear that he had been caught after acting as a Death Eater was an entirely unwelcome wake-up call.

Forgetting where she was, she leaned forward and rested her head on her hands, resisting the urge to break into noisy sobs. Horrible news, and then for it to come on the two-year anniversary of their break-up…Daisy shook Hermione's shoulder. ''Hermione, what's wrong?''

''Well, I…'' Hermione paused, realising that to blurt out details of a secret affair with a Death Eater was probably not the best idea she'd ever had. ''I've had a bit too much to drink. I think I'll go home.''

''Oh…well, maybe Howard could walk you home.''

Hermione took one look at the earnest smile on his face and wanted to cry even more. ''Daisy, I'm Apparating home. ''

With that, she was turning on the spot and promptly appearing in her living room. Sinking to the floor, she let out a low groan, and allowed a few exploratory tears to find their way out of her eyes and down her smooth cheeks.

Life simply wasn't fair, she had known that for a long time, but this seemed almost unbearable. Surely after all she had done, she was due some payback. Surely having to watch dozens of her friends die had earned her some karmic brownie points that could have let her have Draco back? But no, that idiot had gone and joined one of the most despicable men in the world, and now there was no chance of her ever getting what she wanted.

And yet, as much as she hated him for what he had done, she hated herself more because she knew she would be dreaming about him as soon as her head hit the pillow. And because some small part of her was already planning how she could get close enough to have at least one good look at him.

The next morning, pale and wan from a lack of sleep coupled with a hangover, she made her way into work, and smiled at Daisy who was collapsed in her chair. ''Had a good night last night then?''

''Extremely. I kissed Simon and he's going to owl me later.'' Her friend mumbled.

''He must not have seen you dancing on the table then.''

''Did I do that again? Oh, Hermione you should have stopped me, I promised myself I wasn't going to do that again.''

''You were enjoying yourself far too much for me to consider stopping you.'' Hermione giggled, and began clearing the paper on her desk. But Daisy wasn't finished with her yet.

''So what was wrong with you? And don't give me any of that crap about being too drunk. You were fine until Simon mentioned about Draco Malfoy.''

Hermione looked at Daisy appraisingly and suddenly realised how much she wanted to tell someone. Two years was too long to keep such a secret. Glancing around the otherwise empty office, she lowered her voice. ''You can't tell anyone.''

Daisy mimed zipping up her lips.

''When I was in my seventh year at Hogwarts, Draco and I…had a fling.''

Daisy's eyes widened to comic proportions but Hermione wasn't finished. ''It was completely taboo; he was a Pureblood Slytherin and I was a Muggle-born Gryffindor. It was totally secret and didn't go on for very long, but it was long enough for me to fall irrevocably in love with him.'' She smiled wistfully.

Daisy looked at her. ''How did it end?''

''Daisy, he's my polar opposite. He taught me how to be lazy, how to give in to my basest desires, but he wanted me completely to himself. He got furious if I spent any time around anyone else. So one evening, I just crept out of the room we were in while he was sleeping. He tried to speak to me a couple of times, but I think he knew I wasn't going to change my mind. I adored him, I still do, but he isn't any good for me. We just ignored each other until we finished at Hogwarts and then we haven't seen each other since.''

''And you've been secretly pining over him?'' Daisy shook her head in mock-despair. ''Come on Hermione, he'll have been on the run, he'll be mangy and catatonic.''

''You think?''

''Yeah.'' Daisy paused for thought. ''In fact, why don't we go and try and have a look at him? It might just show you that he's nothing special.''

Hermione nodded, perfectly aware that Draco's charm lay in more than his good looks. Even if he was hideous, he still had his blindingly bright charisma to rely on.

Later that day, Hermione and Daisy slipped through the corridors of the cellars of the Ministry of Magic. Azkaban had been left unusable after the war, so the cellars were being used as a makeshift prison. Protection and prevention spells were thick in the air and armed wizards patrolled the corridors in pairs. All it had taken was a minute of Daisy sweet-talking one of the guards and they both had official passes.

Hermione's heart was racing, pumping adrenalin through her system so fast that she thought she was going to pass out. She was quivering slightly and breathing unevenly as they drew up to Draco's cell.

Daisy looked at her warningly. ''You aren't going to do anything moronic like try and break him out, are you?''

Hermione glared at her. ''Being lovesick does not mean that I'm going to start breaking the law.''

Daisy smiled. ''I'll give you some privacy.''

She disappeared back along the corridor, and Hermione looked at the dark door that she was standing a couple of feet away from. Tentatively stepping forward, she felt her heart rate pick up yet again. Bringing herself in line with the door, she gently laid her hands on it, jumping slightly at the touch of the cold wood. Leaning forward, she looked through the small observation panel.

His hair was the first thing she noticed. Despite the dingy squalor of the cell, it still seemed to gleam. Its familiarity, the glossy white-blonde of it, was so nauseatingly recognizable that she thought she was going to throw up. Breathing deeply, her eyes followed the lines of his lean body. He had been almost adult in their seventh year, but now he was undoubtedly a man: older and with a stronger, older face. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at his clasped hands. She looked at those long hands and was suddenly hit with a vivid memory of them moving across her body, caressing and stroking.

Draco gritted his teeth. Would this guard ever move on? He could tell that he was still ogling through the window because of the way the light fell. Turning his head slightly, he saw the small frame in the window and wanted to curse his brain for playing tricks on him. There was no way that one of the guards who stomped along the corridor could be Hermione…but the mirage wasn't fading. Her long curly hair was still there, framing a heart-shaped face with concerned golden eyes. Her lip was trembling slightly as she raised her wand and whispered the spell to allow them to speak to each other through the glass. ''Hello Draco. It's been a while.''

He jumped up from his bed and moved towards the door. ''Hermione?''

''The one and only.'' Her voice was shaking, and he could see the rise and fall of her agitated breathing. His own heart was racing faster, unable to believe that after so long she was standing in front of him again. He truly believed that he could have ripped the door off its hinges just to get at her.

''What are you doing here?''

''I work for the Ministry, for the Protection of Magical Creatures.'' Despite the circumstances, a note of pride crept into her voice and he smiled.

''Like you always wanted.''

''And what are you doing here? A Death Eater?'' Hermione knew it was wrong to have come here now. His charm hadn't diminished at all, if anything it was stronger than ever.

''What, there's no way the Ministry could be wrong?'' His tone dropped easily into the acerbic tones that she had heard so often. ''In fact, I'm not a Death Eater. Your Ministry has locked me up and isn't giving me a chance to defend myself.''

Hermione straightened her back. He might be charming but he wasn't going to pretend to be the injured party. ''Not a Death Eater? No Dark Mark then?''

His loaded pause told her everything she thought she needed to know. ''For Merlin's sake Malfoy. You just don't change, do you?''

''You're not much better, are you? Still sanctimonious and completely convinced that the institution is right!''

''Go on, lash out when you're in the wrong!''

''Call me crazy, but I'm adult enough to talk out my problems rather than just sneaking away and refusing to acknowledge that anything ever happened!''

''Don't you dare call me immature!'' Hermione was crushed, a mixture of poisonous anger, disappointed expectations and disenchanted love. ''I can't believe I thought I would be able to talk to you civilly!''

Draco looked at her, fiery and furious, and realised that he had forgotten just how gorgeous she was when she was angry. What was he meant to say to make her understand that he had thought about her every day, dreamed of her, cried over her betrayal, her silent exit from their romance. But before he could string together a single sentence she was leaving, her farewell bouncing off the stone of the corridor. ''Goodbye Draco.''

_**AN: hello lovely readers and welcome to the sequel! Hope you've enjoyed this chapter, please review and let me know. Lots of love…Petitesorciere xxx**_


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter Two - ''What makes resisting temptation difficult for many people is that they don't want to discourage it completely.'' Franklin P Jones.**

Hermione sighed and tossed her bag onto the sofa. Reaching up, she pulled the clip out from her hair and let her curls cascade down around her shoulders. She felt so drained. It was two days since she had stormed away from Draco, and she was hoping that tonight would be the night that she would be able to get a full night's sleep. Sobbing the nights away had left her feeling wrung out; as though she wasn't a person any more, just a dried-up little husk. Every time that she thought she had managed to cry out every poisonous emotion that was dragging her down, a new wave would rush at her and sweep her under again. Daisy had tried to get her to talk about what had happened but she had just shaken her head tersely and said that it hadn't gone as planned.

She breathed in deeply, refusing to give in so early in the evening. She would hold out until she was in bed, she told herself, when the dark enveloped her and muffled her tears. Just as she was moving over to her small kitchen and wondering whether she wanted a proper meal or whether toast would be enough, there was a tapping at the window and Pigwidgeon was there.

Letting him in, Hermione sighed at the scroll he was carrying. It would mean an invitation that would drag her away from a night spent crying in her little flat, which suddenly seemed a very pleasant option. Unrolling the parchment, she scanned her eyes over the blocky scrawl.

_**Hermione, come over to Harry and Ginny's tonight – they've promised to order in pizza.**_

_**Ron**_

Hermione rolled her eyes. Pizza? That was his winning gambit? Food? Unbidden, an image sprang to mind of Draco feeding her pieces of Chocolate Frog.

Stop it, she told herself. You can't get all weird and start thinking about Draco every time someone offers you food. Putting a pair of ballet pumps on, she flicked her hair over her shoulders and turned on the spot, promptly reappearing outside Harry and Ginny's front door.

Ginny hurried to the door in response to Hermione's soft knock, and stood clear, allowing Hermione to move past her sixth month-pregnant bump. ''Hermione! I haven't seen you for ages!''

''Sorry…I've been really busy at work. Has it really been that long?'

''Well, maybe two weeks. It seems like ages, I haven't been out too much. I'm beginning to get unwieldy. Difficult to move around shops in my condition.'' She stroked the bump affectionately, and laughed.

Hermione smiled back at her. Ginny was glowing, and Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. Her own existence seemed so enormously sterile now, but what could she do about that? She would only be content with a man of Draco's calibre, and unfortunately the only man she had met of Draco's calibre had been Draco himself and came complete with a whole host of other characteristics that she had no interest in.

But then, thought Hermione, were those other characteristics really so undesirable? It was lovely to be shown how to appreciate the small pleasures in life, even if it had involved being lazy, lustful, and greedy. And now that her life seemed so utterly barren, as she lay in a cold, empty bed every night, hugging a pillow, the idea of being so passionately coveted was a lovely idea.

It was not, she admonished herself firmly as she walked towards the living room where she could hear Harry and Ron loudly debating as to whether or not the Chudley Cannons had a chance in the upcoming season.

They looked up as she came in and Ron beamed. ''You came!''

''Why does everyone seem so perennially surprised to see me?'' Hermione flopped onto the sofa. ''I see you more than most other people, but you always seem so pleased to see me, like I've been away for ages.''

Ron moved away from Harry and sat next to Hermione. ''Don't pretend you aren't thrilled by my joy. Now, these tightwads promised me pizza, but it has yet to appear.''

Harry rolled his eyes. ''I'll get on to it your majesty.''

Ron grinned and turned to ask Hermione what she'd been up to at work. Ten minutes later, she paused to draw breath and realised how comfortable she felt around Ron. She was able to tell him anything, she could listen to him talk for ages. She could feel the warmth of his arm across the back of the sofa where he had absentmindedly slung it, and her feet were in his lap as she picked at a slice of pizza. To the casual observer, there were two happy couples in the room.

But is comfort a substitute for passion? For the kind of love that can burn brightly through even the darkest situations? But as she nudged Ron with her foot for something he had said, Hermione couldn't help wondering if she had been consumed by an unrequited love for too long. Maybe it was time to make a proper, concerted effort to move on; to stop holding on to desperate day-dreams. The man that she was dreaming about was sitting in a cell, claiming his innocence despite the Dark Mark branded on him.

She looked appraisingly at Ron from beneath lowered eyelashes. He was her best friend. They had been through the worst times and the best times together. They could have no secrets from one another. They would be happy. It would be a grown-up love, not a childish one. It would be a love anchored in friendship, not in an unpredictable passion. It would be mutual love, not an unbalanced adoration marred by base instincts and selfishness.

Ron saw her glance and smiled at her. Hermione's eyelashes brushed her cheek as she looked down and then shot another glance back at Ron. It would be easy, she knew that: Ron wanted her and had made his feelings perfectly clear on the matter. She would move on, she decided, she would make herself feel the same way about Ron as he did about her. She smiled sweetly at him.

Draco lay back on his bed and stared at the uniform white ceiling of his prison cell, wondering what Hermione was doing. He had thought of her every day for the past two years, and now that he had actually seen her, she was no longer a memory but a lovely ghost who floated to him and wrapped herself around him, entwining herself in his every thought.

How was he supposed to explain that things weren't quite as hideously bad as they looked? Yes, he had the Dark Mark. He looked at it, a blemish on his pale skin, and thought about how everything had gone wrong since he got it. It was the day that he stopped being bullied by his father and started being bullied by all the Death Eaters. It was the day that his classmates began avoiding him and anxiously looking at his left arm. And ironically enough, the day that he should have felt drunk with illegitimate power was the day that he felt the control of his life slipping away from him.

Picking at the skin on his arm, he wondered how deep he would have to gouge in order to get the charm out of his arm. If he did go deep enough to clean the mark off his arm, would the mess that was his life magically disentangle itself?

He was a Death Eater, technically speaking. He wore the mark, he had gone to the meetings, he had grovelled over the mad man who promised an elitist peace born out of bloodshed, he had terrorised innocent people. But he had never killed. He had always known that he didn't have it in him to kill anyone, but Voldemort had only smiled scornfully as he gave Draco orders. So rather than nobly make a stand, Draco had taken the coward's choice and disappeared into the black night. Evading capture by the skin of his teeth, he had been furious to eventually have been caught by goons from the Ministry of Magic, and more so to have been accused of several murders. And now no one would believe him, no one would plead his case.

Rolling over on the tiny bed, he closed his eyes and thought of Hermione. She would never believe him. She would place all her trust in a system of democracy that would surely be biased against him, and carry on with her life while he languished in a cell. He would die alone and forgotten, she would be surrounded by family and friends. He sat up. She probably was already surrounded by family and friends. It had been two years, why would she have stayed single? She would have found someone who fitted her ideal of perfect. Probably Weasley. His fists clenched a little as he thought of the way Weasley had always looked at her.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ribbon that she had left behind when she left him. It was slightly frayed now, worn from being pulled round his fingers so many times. He ran it across his hands, comforted by the silky feel of the material, and cursed himself for the millionth time. If he hadn't been so greedy, so lazy, so smug, then she would still be here, and he would not be stroking a hair accessory and wishing that it was her soft hair. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that it was more than slightly pathetic that a twenty year old man still had what essentially amounted to a comfort blanket..

He pushed the ribbon back into his pocket and sighed heavily. He knew he had not been perfect, but Hermione hadn't been either. So uptight, so reluctant to let her guard down, and the way that she had left him without a word had hurt more than she could possibly have realised. He lay back down, and felt despair wash over him. Of course she had left without a word, he wouldn't have let her get one in edgeways. Turning over and willing himself to sleep, he silently prayed for another chance, a single moment to make her realise that he had changed just a little, just enough to let him love her without locking her away.

His final thoughts before he drifted into a troubled sleep were of her; what was she doing at that exact moment? Did she ever think of him? And did she have any inkling that he had never stopped loving her, and he didn't think he ever would?

Hermione was still lounging on Harry and Ginny's sofa, still with her feet in Ron's lamp, and still idly picking at a now-cold slice of pizza. But her outwardly calm appearance was masking a frantically-racing mind. It had seemed so simple when she had made her decision. She would kiss Ron, she would forget Draco's possessive and passionate love, and she would move into a grown-up, comfortable love where she would be cared for without being controlled.

But such a decision was far easier to make in one's head than to actually carry out in real life. Her relentlessly efficient brain was already mapping out possible routes to achieving the desired outcome, and that was what had thrown her into such confusion. Why was she having to plan out her romance? Why wasn't it as easy and as impulsive as falling in love with Draco? Why should she have to work and scheme to get her happy ending? Cinderella hadn't had to, she had just been herself and things had fallen into place for her, Hermione thought mutinously.

Now that she was contemplating leaving them, her nights of pining for Draco seemed very precious. If she was with Ron, she would have to sacrifice every memory, and that meant the cherished ones of Draco's laughing face and cool grey eyes, his teasing tone, and the barely restrained delight in his lean body as he had pressed it against hers.

Why on earth would I want memories of a boy who broke my heart rather than a man who will love me, she asked.

'Because you LOVE Draco, you idiot!' screamed the hateful little voice in her. 'You were utterly, irreversibly, irrevocably in love with him, and you still are. You're only willing to tolerate Ron and you're only willing to do that because meeting up with Draco didn't leave you with the fuzzy pink glow that you had imagined. How shallow are you? You're willing to give up the man of your dreams as soon as the going gets tough! And this is the girl who fought through Death Eaters and discrimination! Call yourself a Gryffindor…'

Shut up, Hermione told it firmly. You have no idea of the hell that Draco left me living in.

'Of course I do. And you can call it hell, but you certainly weren't complaining when you were being held by him. In fact, I know perfectly well that you felt whole when you were with him, and you've felt like something was missing ever since you gave up on him. Do you honestly think that Ron, sweet as he is, is going to fill that gap? Obviously not – he's your friend and nothing more.'

I can make him more than my friend, Hermione muttered mutinously. And then I'll be fine.

'No you won't, and you'll just be ruining another person's life that way. Are you not content with fucking up yours and Draco's lives already?'

That's a bit strong, she protested.

'Oh really, what would you say you've done? You left two people broken hearted when surely with a bit of work and understanding they could be blissfully happy! Do you honestly not think that's fucking up?'

Hermione struggled for a minute, but couldn't think of a snappy response. I'm not talking to you anymore, she thought, you know me far too well. I can at least try this.

Silencing the retorts already surfacing, she poked Ron with her foot. ''I'm going to go home now.''

''Yeah, I need to be going as well. I'll see you home Hermione.''

Hermione felt a flush of pleasure and congratulated herself: she could feel happy when Ron was doing what she wanted! Her face fell as she realised the problem – she wasn't happy because Ron was going to see her home. She was happy because things were working out according to her plan.

Saying goodbye to Harry and Ginny, Hermione and Ron turned on the spot and arrived outside her front door. She began rummaging for her keys. ''Do you fancy a drink?''

''No, I'm fine.'' Ron was looking at her oddly, and Hermione realised she was blushing. She had never been so forward in her life.

''Sure?''

''Yeah. Are you ok, you look a bit flushed?''

Hermione felt a rush of irritation run through her. Draco would have understood. Draco would have taken her in his arms and kissed her until she felt weak.

'Ahem,' piped up the know-it-all in her head. 'Shall we assume I was correct then?'

No, snarled Hermione, and took a deep breath. ''Ron, I'd like you to kiss me.''

He laughed softly, incredulously, and kissed her cheek. ''What was that for? Is it some kind of bet you've got going?''

''Not like that.'' Hermione breathed in even more deeply, and tried to throw her memories of Draco to the wind. ''Like this.''

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his, able to sense his shock through the way he kissed her; unable to decide whether he should give in to the girl he had wanted for so long, or whether he should pull away and demand an explanation for the unprecedented affection.

Hermione clung to him, longing for him to be the raft that would float her out of her Draco-induced swamp of misery. But it wasn't working. She could only compare: Draco had parted her lips gently with his tongue, nibbling at her lips, stroking her jaw – forceful but absolutely blissful. Ron was pressing at her, his lips covering hers. She felt trapped beneath a weight of expectation, both her own and his. How could this be the answer?

Pushing him away, she muttered an apology, slipping into her flat. She locked the door and dropped to the floor, sobbing brokenly. When would his spell break and let her live an ordinary life? She needed to get away from Draco, but she couldn't let him go. To do so would be the ultimate betrayal. She had left him once, but she hadn't let him go then, and she couldn't let him go now. How could she when he was all she needed to make her complete? But how could she keep on wanting him, needing him, when he was the antithesis of all she logically knew to be desirable?

_**AN: If you knew how pathetically grateful I am for my reviews, you wouldn't hesitate to leave me one **__****__**! Please let me know what you thought! Lots of love, Petitesorciere xxx**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – ''…there are terrible temptations that it requires strength and courage to yield to.'' Oscar Wilde (An Ideal Husband)**

''But why won't you listen to me? I've tried to tell you a million and one times that I had nothing to do with that and…''

''The Ministry of Magic is under no obligation to listen to murderers such as yourself Malfoy!''

Draco ground the heels of his palms into his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth. ''I have never killed anyone in my life. I was a Death Eater, but I never killed anyone.''

''What an original claim.'' The Ministry Official's voice was disbelieving. ''I suppose we should give you marks for sticking to your story.''

''It's not a story, it's the truth. There's a considerable difference Mr…''

''Catton. But the fact remains Malfoy, the Ministry has a strong stance on Death Eaters. The public sees you all as murderers, regardless of what you say. And for the Ministry to excuse you simply because you have a different story to the dozens of other Death Eaters that we have put on trial makes no sense at all! It would cause riots!''

''You seem to have seriously overestimated the extent to which people will protest. I doubt very much that there will be riots.'' Draco drawled at the official, who coloured slightly.

''You cannot expect to be excused.''

''I do not expect to be excused Mr Catton.'' Draco sighed and spoke with exaggerated politeness. ''I merely expect to be punished for crimes which I have actually committed. I expect an unbiased trial. I have been in this cell for a week now without being told when my trial is and what crimes I will be accused of. All I have had is day after day of your guards harassing me and asking me which people I've killed.''

''You…''

''I am entitled to significantly better treatment than this, despite why I have been captured. And any Death Eater who knows you will freely tell you that I was the worst supporter Voldemort ever recruited. My father signed me up, and then frequently expressed his disappointment in my lack of zeal in torturing the innocent.''

''A touching story Mr Malfoy.'' Catton's voice was just as biting as Draco's. ''Unfortunately for you, I don't believe a word of it.''

The official got up and stormed out of Draco's cell, leaving the young man to lie back on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. His teeth were clenched firmly together, his mind racing. There was no way that he could get out of this one. The Ministry were determined to pin all unsolved murders on him, and they would carry on badgering him, keep him locked away from daylight until he caved in. He tried to relax his jaw slightly. Well, he wasn't going to be giving in anytime soon. Let them fret over trying to get him to talk.

Hermione looked up from her work as a shadow fell across her desk. ''Harry!''

''Hey Hermione.'' Harry grinned at her. ''Fancy going to get lunch?''

''Definitely,'' she answered, shuffling her papers into a neater pile. ''Just give me one minute.''

Daisy rushed into the room and plopped behind her desk. ''Only fifteen minutes late…Hermione, if Angela asks, I was here the whole time.''

Hermione smiled. ''What did you get this time?''

''Some fantastic candles and this beautiful…Oh, hello Harry.''

''Hi Daisy. What's all this about?'' He gestured at the bags across her desk.

Hermione grabbed her bag. ''Daisy is in the first throes of a new romance and is splurging away all her savings in order to transform her house into Venus's lair.''

Daisy rolled her eyes. ''It'll pay off in the end.''

''Keep telling yourself that.'' Hermione laughed as she and Harry left the office.

The sunshine was buttery and warm against their backs as they walked across a small courtyard, and the small grassy area was thronged with wizards and witches making the most of the inconsistent British weather.

''So, to what occasion do I owe the honour of the great Harry Potter coming to have lunch with me?'' Hermione teased.

''You mean I can't just have lunch with you any more?''

''Harry, you're twitching about like nobody's business, which means you have something to say. Go on, spit it out.''

''Well, it's a little awkward.'' Harry took a bite of his sandwich and looked at her apologetically, as though the mouthful would unfortunately take up a serious amount of time, so it would be best to change the subject. Hermione just put her fork down and looked at him calmly. Finally, he swallowed. ''Erm…well…uh…Ron kind of…sort of…''

''Ron what?'' Hermione snapped, with a horrible, sinking feeling.

Harry took a deep breath. ''Ron told me you asked him to kiss you.''

'Oh dear, this is all turning around and biting you on the arse, isn't it?' The little voice piped up.

Why do you only ever show up at times like this? And why do you never say anything helpful?, Hermione spat. ''What else did Ron tell you?''

''That he kissed you, and then you burst into tears, ran into your flat, locked him out and are now refusing to talk to him.''

''Oh. He was very thorough.'' Hermione's lips felt frozen.

''You kissed Ron?'' Hermione looked at Harry, and saw a hundred hopes in his eyes.

''Harry, it was a mistake,'' she told him gently. ''I've been feeling quite…lonely. And I know Ron has feelings for me, and I thought maybe I could make myself feel the same way. It was really selfish of me…I owe him an apology.''

''Oh.''

''Sorry, no double-dates.'' She tried to get a smile out of him, but he just reached over and grabbed her hand.

''Are you sure you couldn't give it a try? Come on Hermione, you've known him for so long.''

''Harry, I get enough pressure from my parents about bringing a boy home. I do not need you turning matchmaker on me.''

''But you were saying that you felt lonely, maybe Ron's the answer.''

''He's not the right answer.'' Hermione said bluntly. ''I tried, and it wasn't right.''

''One panicked kiss in a corridor is not trying. And you know it.''

''Harry, I will make the vital choices about my love life, thank you very much.'' Hermione pushed a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

''One date.'' Harry grinned at her. ''Just one date. And then if it isn't right we can all drop it.''

Hermione swallowed. ''He's put you up to this.''

''Yeah. I thought I was being subtle.''

''Look up subtle in a dictionary! I can't believe you two were plotting this behind my back!''

''Go on this date, and I won't make you apologise to Ron. Come on Hermione, you said you were lonely, give Ron a second try.''

Hermione looked at her watch. She needed to get back to her desk…which meant a quick decision.

'Don't say yes, you'll regret it so much' the familiar voice screamed at her.

But Harry was looking at her expectantly and pleading for his best friend with silent eyes.

''Fine. One date. And it won't work, because Ron and I are friends. And as soon as this farce is over, I expect things to go right back to normal. Understand?'

''Completely.'' Harry beamed at her around his sandwich.

Hermione made her way back to her office, unable to shake the feeling that she had completely lost her backbone: giving into a bit of pleading so easily? That wasn't like her at all. And she knew exactly why she had done it. Because she was lonely, and disappointed. She desperately wanted to believe she could move beyond pain and lovelorn sickness, and if Harry really thought that Ron would do that for her, then she wanted to trust Harry, no matter what her gut was telling her.

Sitting down at her desk, watching Daisy fiddle around with her new purchases, she smiled halfheartedly. If only her life could be so easy.

Daisy saw her looking. ''I've been meaning to speak to you about that.''

''About what?''

''About that miserable expression you've been wearing for the past week. I've had enough now.''

Hermione stared at her. ''Well what do you want me to do about it?''

''You're going to tell me exactly why you're so miserable. Now.''

Hermione looked at her friend. ''What do you want to know?''

''This is all about Draco isn't it?''

Hermione nodded, and taking a deep breath, told her friend everything. From how no one she had met could ever live up to Draco, to the nights she spent crying, crushed under her aching loneliness, to how she had tried to use Ron to fill the void inside her. ''And do you know what Daisy? The worst part is that it all stems from my own stupidity. If I hadn't pushed Draco away, I wouldn't be in this mess, and he wouldn't be either.'''

''Ok, that's a lot of blame you're putting on yourself. You don't know that Draco wouldn't have ended up a Death Eater if the pair of you hadn't broken up. And you told me yourself that he wasn't right for you.''

''But what if love isn't meant to be flawless? What if it only comes once and you have to take it as it comes?''

''It doesn't. Hermione, have you told Draco that you're sorry for the way things worked out.''

Hermione shook her head. ''What good would that do?''

''It would help you feel better about yourself.'' Daisy looked earnestly at Hermione. ''And if he accepts the apology then you can both move on. And if he's a jerk about it, then you can just decide he's an idiot and move on anyway.''

''Things aren't that simple,'' Hermione whispered.

''You're making them more complicated than they need to be. Just trust your instincts for once,'' her friend snapped. ''Stop being so bloody pathetic! Or are you just scared?''

''No!'' Hermione snapped, as she sat up straighter.

''Then go and talk to him.'' Daisy turned back to her desk, apparently losing interest in the conversation.

''Fine.'' Daisy heard the snarl, felt the gust of wind as the office door slammed shut, but it was only when she was sure that Hermione was gone that she let a satisfied smile slide across her face.

Hermione made her way through the corridors in a blistering, white-hot rage. How dare Daisy call her a coward? Daisy had no idea what Hermione had been through! Her internal rant kept her busy until she was practically at Draco's cell. Then the crippling fear and confusion rippled through her.

What was she going to say?

How would she look the object of her dreams in the eye and apologise without falling at his feet?

Would he even want to talk to her?

Daisy's voice was circling her head…just trust your instincts, trust your instincts, trust your instincts.

Not giving herself any more time to think, she stepped in front of the door and spoke through the glass. ''Excuse me, Draco? May I talk to you for a moment?''

Draco's head shot up. Hermione's voice, shy and quivering a little, was in his cell, and she was outside his cell, her long hair pulled back off her face. ''What are you doing here?''

The words could have sounded harsh, cruel even, but he spoke them with such delight, clearly happy to see her again, despite the circumstances. Hermione felt some of the tension leave her body, only to be overwhelmed by a rush of adoration so strong that she had to clutch onto the door frame in order to stand up straight. ''I came to see you.''

''Well, I'd guessed that much.'' Draco stood up and walked towards the door. He was far taller than she remembered, making her feel even smaller. His face was lean, dark shadows beneath the eyes, but his eyes were exactly the same smokey grey, a swirling mix of love, wary caution and acerbic wit. He smiled at her, and for the first time in two years Hermione felt properly happy. She was sure she was glowing, incandescent with joy. If it weren't for the setting, it would be possible to believe that nothing had changed between them.

''How are you?'' she asked, perfectly aware that it didn't come close to what she wanted to know, but it would do for a start. All thoughts of apologies were gone, vanished into the nether. She only wanted to keep him close to her.

Draco opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Catton was striding along the corridor. ''Young lady, that prisoner is not entitled to visitors!''

Hermione stood up straight. ''You seem to be determined to deny the prisoner all his basic rights! I was checking the boards, and you've kept him here for a week without charging him with anything, and you've kept him locked in here twenty four hours a day!''

''Who are you?''

''Hermione Granger, I work for the Protection of Magical Creatures.''

''Miss Granger, I didn't realise it was you.'' His tone had become obsequious. ''Surely you don't want to be involving yourself with a prisoner given what you fought for?''

''I fought for a fair world.'' Hermione answered icily. ''Does Mr Malfoy have anyone to defend him?''

''Well…no.''

''Fine. Then I'll do it.'' Hermione snapped. ''I expect him to be charged within the next twenty four hours.''

Catton gawped at her. ''But why?''

''I don't really want to talk about it. Please, I need some time alone with the defendant.''

''I can have a security pass ready for his cell by tomorrow,'' the man mumbled and fled up along the corridor, clearly bewildered.

Draco stared at Hermione. ''Did you just abuse the power of your reputation?''

Hermione smiled weakly. ''That one's going to come back to bite me.''

Draco raised his hand towards her absentmindedly, wanting to brush a loose curl off her face. He was stopped by the glass, but he didn't lower his hand. ''Why are you doing this?''

Hermione raised her hand towards his, letting her fingers trace the outline of his hand. ''Don't ask me, because I really don't know. I just…I just feel like trusting my instincts for once.'' She pressed her palm against his, wishing the cool glass didn't separate them. ''And this is what my instincts are telling me to do, no matter how scared I am, no matter how much my sanity screams at me, no matter what people are going to say. This is what I'm meant to do. This is the way it's meant to be.''

**_AN: Ta-dah! Well, that was chapter three. I've had such a fantastic response with reviews so far, please do keep it up! I love reading my reviews, and I respond to all that I'm able to. If you haven't read them, please do check out my other stories (just click on my author name), and let me know what you think of them too. Lots of love…Petitesorciere xxx_**

_**Ps. I've begun writing my first non-fanfiction story (eek!). Is there anyone who would be interested in having a look over the first few chapters? x**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four – ''Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us…the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.'' Oscar Wilde**

Hermione walked down the corridor, battling an unpleasant mix of anticipation and fear. She couldn't believe that all it had taken to goad her into defending Draco was a particularly unpleasant government official. She half suspected Draco of having bribed Catton to say what he had said. She wouldn't have put it past him.

But every time she determined, definitely, finitely, truly, not to go near Draco again, to find him another person to defend him, she was reminded of _him_. She recalled his intelligent conversation, his laughing face, his tenderness, the way he knew her better than she knew herself, the way he could make her melt just by running his finger along her neck, the way he held her.

And then as soon as she remembered that, she would remember how he had schemed and manipulated, how he had been cruel and possessive, how he had been mocking and angry. No…she couldn't possibly have anything to do with a man like that.

_Don't you think you owe the poor man something? After all, you did leave him deserted. For all you want to pretend he's a demon, you were certainly no angel._ The little voice smirked at her.

_**Shut up. I am under no obligation to help a man like that.**_

_Well, technically you are under an obligation now, because you promised to help him. Anyway, you know and I know that you are dying to kiss him, to have your Draco back!_

_**Ah…but I didn't promise to do that! I can go in there and be completely professional and detached!**_

_You honestly think you can do that? More to the point, do you want to?_

_**Yes**. _Hermione kicked herself: even her thoughts lacked conviction. _**I mean, YES, of course that's what I want!**_

_Yeah, yeah, whatever._

And so, if only to prove that oh-so-knowing part of her brain wrong, Hermione found herself walking towards Draco's cell late on Saturday afternoon (not wanting anyone to find out, she hadn't dared to take time off work), this time with a legitimate pass. Nodding nervously at the guard, she waited for him to open the door and then stepped into the serpent's lair.

Draco had spent the morning trying to sort out his hair without the aid of a mirror or comb. Long gone were the days where he was permanently immaculate. His robes didn't fit him properly anymore, as days on the run had left him rangier and leaner, and as today hadn't brought any razors, he had stubble blooming around his jaw. Running his hand irritably across the bristles, he thought back to the days where Hermione had seen him in peak condition. She would be sorely disappointed by seeing him up close, he mused, but then that had been the case with his personality. It would surely be a source of some comfort to complete the whole, flawed, picture.

Sitting on his bed, he heard the click of heels down the corridor and immediately leapt to his feet. What was he meant to do? Should he sit on the bed, stand up, move away from the door or greet her at the door? Should he smile, shake her hand or just nod? Why was he even so anxious to please the one girl who had ever succeeded in breaking his heart?

Hermione walked into the cell to see Draco suspended in some dreadful kind of limbo, unsure of how to act. She knew exactly how he felt. Looking around the scantily-furnished room, she wondered where she should sit. There was an empty space on the bed next to Draco, she noted with a heady rush of adrenalin, which she immediately tried to calm. Draco, herself and a bed was unlikely to prove a successful combination for rational conversation if he felt anything near what she felt for him.

Fortunately for Hermione, the guard was pushing in a tiny desk and chair, which she gratefully sat behind and shuffled her pages in front of her. She had the details of Draco's charges and what the Aurors who had caught him had said. Waiting until the guard had withdrawn from the cell, and to a respectable distance from the cell, she turned to Draco.

He looked achingly handsome. The stubble that was shadowing his face only served to remind her that she was no longer a young girl in the passionate throes of first love with a boy, but a woman dealing with a man. The violet shadows beneath his eyes were calling out to be soothed away with tender kisses and caresses. Shaking her head firmly, she half-smiled. ''So.''

Draco looked at her out of the corner of his eye, unwilling to be caught staring. She was wearing a pretty sundress and strappy, high-heeled sandals. Something she had thrown on that morning as her boyfriend (husband?) watched idly from the bed, or something she had agonised over for hours in order to impress him? Her hair was tied up, and the clean white skin on the nape of her neck looked so sweetly vulnerable that he felt a tremor run through him. ''So.''

''Is there anywhere you feel we should start?''

Draco almost frowned; she actually wanted to talk about his case? He wanted to talk to her about what had happened in the two missing years. He wanted to know everything she had done, and tell her everything that had happened to him. But if she wasn't interested…that wasn't the Hermione he knew. She must have a boyfriend, there was no ring on the small hand so there was no husband. And if there was a boyfriend, there was surely little point in getting his hopes up. ''Well, what do you want to know? What do you think would be a good starting point?''

_**I think a good starting point would be for you to come over here, yank me out of my chair, kiss me like you used to, and then tell me that it's like the past never existed**_, Hermione thought.

_Ha! You admit it!_

_**A momentary lapse**_, Hermione retorted. ''Erm…well, I'd like to know what your defence is.''

''You mean you don't have the answer? That must be a first Granger.''

Hermione jumped at the sound of her surname. ''I haven't had all the answers before. I can't solve every problem, and I need you to tell me why I'm wasting my Saturday trying to help you.''

''I was a Death Eater, but I never killed anyone, to put it briefly.'' Draco looked at her, wondering how she would react.

''I didn't think that was possible.'' Hermione raised her eyebrow.

''Well, you were never a Death Eater, were you?'' Draco snapped, desperate not to act like he cared what she thought. He knew he was overplaying it, knew that he was making himself entirely unapproachable, but what else was he meant to do? There was no use in trying to seduce her, she had made her thoughts on that matter perfectly clear two years ago, and she obviously just wanted this to be a business matter. Better to be utterly standoffish and rude than fawning all over her. He still had his pride. It was one of the few things left to him, and he wasn't relinquishing it without a fight.

''I never had the credentials for it,'' Hermione answered. ''So Voldemort was perfectly happy to just let you join his gang without selling your soul?''

''Melodramatic as ever, I see. Are you defending me or writing an article for the Daily Prophet?''

''Answer the question, or I'm leaving.'' Hermione looked at him through steely eyes. Why was he being such a complete idiot? He had been so sweet the other day, puzzled at her presence, but the look in his eyes had told her all she needed to know. Or so she thought. Any thoughts of apologising fled her mind, and her stubborn nature took over, crushing the hopeless romantic in her. Yes, she wanted him, needed him more than the air that she was breathing, but she would not be some grovelling little wreck seeking his approval. She had tried to gain that before and it had nearly broken her. She would be herself, and he could like it or lump it.

''No, of course he didn't want that. He needs servants who don't put conditions on their servitude. The night he told me to kill someone, I ran. I stayed in hiding, living in the country, Apparating to somewhere new everyday. And then I got caught by the morons of the Ministry, and you seem to know the rest of the story.''

''Why didn't you kill the person? Who was it?''

Draco looked at her coolly. ''I forget.''

''You've forgotten the last order that Voldemort ever gave you?''

''I had rather more important things on my mind. Survival for one.''

''Not that it matters, that poor person is probably dead anyway.''

''I didn't realise you were such a pessimist.'' Draco scratched his face.

''Where you're concerned, I've learned to be wary. So what did you do wrong?''

''Wrong?''

''Don't try and play games with me. I'm not interested in how you're planning to interpret the subjective nature of the word 'wrong'. I just want to know what you did to terrorise innocent people.''

''What makes you think you can deal with it?' His voice sounded like a snake; a low sinuous hiss that slithered through every part of her body.

''I managed to deal with Voldemort, I'm sure I can deal with what one little runaway did.'' Shooting him an icy glare, she couldn't help wondering what her voice sounded like to him. What effect did her words have on him?

Clearly the wrong one. His eyes narrowed to small, venomous slits. ''Well, you would know all about running away.''

''We aren't talking about that.''

''How do you know that your actions weren't to blame for my subsequent …adventures, shall we say?''

''Don't you dare try and pin this on me!'' Hermione stood up, unable to contain her fury. ''You did not turn into a Death Eater because I walked out of a relationship which would never have worked! You turned into a Death Eater because you are a coward who couldn't find the courage to stand up to his daddy and do something worthwhile with his life!''

Draco looked up at her, his heart ripping itself apart. ''You honestly think that?''

She sat back down, and stared down at her papers before looking at him. The expression in her eyes was enough to make him want to break down, to hold her in the fortress of her arms and never let anything harm her again. ''I have to.''

Draco opened his mouth, but what were you meant to say to that? Hermione was whispering now. ''I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I know that if you felt anything like what I felt, it would have been the worst betrayal imaginable. But I couldn't carry on like that.''

''If both of us were hurting, how could it be right?'' He was leaning forward, almost touching her in the confined spaces of his prison.

''It wouldn't have worked.''

''How do you know? You don't have all the answers. Some answers aren't meant to be found in books, they're meant to be worked out. Worked out with another person.'' The intensity in his eyes was exhilarating, terrifying and wonderful at the same time. ''I could have changed, you could have changed, the whole bloody thing could have changed!''

''I…'' Hermione didn't know what to do. It was the same unbalancing act that he had performed on her with such success a million times before: unsettle her with his coldness and then warm her in the glow of his love. And she still wasn't immune.

''Hermione.'' He said her name so quietly, a perfect accompaniment to the pale hand that was taking her small one and squeezing it gently. ''Come on, this is me. Draco.''

''I don't know you. I don't know if I ever knew you.''

''You knew me too well.'' He had brought her hand up to his mouth and was whispering next to the soft skin, soft puffs of warm air running across her knuckles. ''And you saw the ugliest parts of me. But I'm not like that anymore, not to that extent.''

''No, you're a Death Eater, locked up in the Ministry,'' she said, her voice an odd mix between sobbing and laughing.

''I am always going to be proud, and greedy, and lustful, and lazy, and selfish and jealous, and possessive. But I'm not like I use to be. Living underneath a bush tends to put things in perspective for you. And I know you thought I was too possessive of you, but believe me, all I ever wanted was to hold you, and love you. I would have given you myself totally. I think I did.''

''You gave me yourself?'' Hermione's voice was quivering, and Draco was sure that he could see a tremulous kind of joy beginning to appear in her mouth.

''And if you wanted…''Before Draco could finish his sentence, letting her know that if she still wanted him, he was still hers, the guard bashed on the door.

''Time's up!''

''No!'' Draco glared at the guard, knowing that in one more minute Hermione would have been telling him that she still wanted him, that she was his and she had been from the moment that he put a piece of Chocolate Frog between her lips, from the moment he kissed her as the sun set across the lake. But she was already disentangling herself, picking up her papers, smiling slightly to herself.

Hermione fought back the urge to grin to herself. He wanted her, and it looked like he would forgive her for going, and she could forgive him, because he would have changed. And she would get him off scot-free, and they could live happily ever after. Unfortunately, Hermione had forgotten that real life is rarely so simple.

Draco looked at her as he lounged back on his bed. ''So, what are you up to tonight?''

''Er…nothing.'' She lied frantically, praying that he hadn't noticed.

''Liar,'' he laughed. ''Come on, you don't have to pretend you're staying in alone just because you feel sorry for me. Go on, what is it? A hot date?''

''No!''

Draco sat up. ''Rather vehement about that, aren't we?'' Instantly, all the teasing in his voice went. ''So you were laughing to yourself about me pouring my poor little convict heart out while you plan your wonderful night of passion?''

''Don't be ridiculous,'' she pleaded, but it was the wrong thing to say.

''Ridiculous? I don't think so Granger.''

''Well, it's my life, and I don't have to tell you if I don't want to.'' She was aiming for a teasing tone, but fear of discovery made her sharper than she had intended.

Draco's face closed instantly, all the intensity and fire doused in seconds. His voice was flat. ''Fine. Live your sodding life, and don't worry about telling me anything. I don't care.''

''Draco, I didn't mean it like that…''

''Granger, I don't CARE! Go on, get out. That moron's waiting.'' Gesturing at the guard, he turned his face to the wall. Not wanting to argue with him in front of the guard, and angry at how _fucking pig-headed_ he was, Hermione stormed out of the cell.

A date indeed! It wasn't a date, it was that pathetic farce that Ron and Harry had blackmailed her into going on. Storming into her bedroom and kicking off her sandals, so carefully selected in the hope that he would notice, she contemplated cancelling. But she would never be able to escape simply by saying she had a headache. Harry would force her to reschedule, and she would have to spend more time dreading the outing.

Letting her hair down, she looked into her wardrobe. What was she meant to wear? She had no idea what Ron had in mind. Hopefully just something simple that would let her pretend that the evening was nothing more than time spent with friends. Jeans, she decided. Dark jeans with a silky top and high heels, and chandelier earrings. Quickly pulling on the clothes and retouching her make-up, she told herself that the evening wouldn't be awful. Ron would be fine, and easily subdued, and she could be home and in bed by eleven-thirty.

A knock came on the door, and with a sickening plummet of her stomach, she went to answer it. Ron beamed at her, and Hermione smiled weakly back. Thankfully he hadn't brought her flowers.

''Hi Ron. So, where are we going?''

''Come on.'' Ron reached forward and took hold of Hermione's elbow. She could feel the heat of his hand as he spun them into a claustrophobic instant and then spiralled them out into the foyer of a dimly lit restaurant. ''Great isn't it?''

Hermione nodded and followed Ron as the waiter showed them to a table. Ron took the proffered menu and then looked at her over the top of it. ''This was the restaurant where Dad proposed to Mum.''

Hermione inhaled deeply and willed herself not to pass out. _**He won't propose, he was just mentioning it in conversation, and for Merlin's sake I can damn well answer him.**_ ''Really? How lovely for them. So what…''

But she completely forgot she was going to say, because as she looked at Ron it seemed that the twenty year old in front of her shrank back into the eleven year old boy that she had loved and loathed in equal measures. Their friendship flashed before her eyes, and in that second she knew that Harry had been wrong to tell her that Ron might be the solution to her loneliness. They were too firmly entrenched as friends for her to ever consider Ron as a serious romantic interest. To kiss him would be almost a perversion.

Smiling and looking down at her menu, she thought wryly that Draco couldn't have been more wrong about her having a 'hot date'. It wasn't even lukewarm.

They managed to make their way through to dessert without any romantic tones to the evening, despite the dusky lighting, and soppy couples around them. Just when Hermione was congratulating herself on coping so well in a potentially dangerous situation, Ron reached across the table and grabbed her hand. ''Hermione, I'm so glad you agreed to come tonight.''

''Really? Why?'' Her mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara, and it took her a minute to work the words out.

''You know how I feel about you and…''

''Ron, please, let me…''

''No, let me finish.'' Ron carried on, squeezing her hand gently. ''You know how I feel about you, and when you agreed to come I knew it meant a chance to finally talk to you about this.''

''Ron, you have to understand…''

''There's nothing to understand Hermione – when you kissed me the other day I knew that you felt the same way as I do.'' He smiled at her, and Hermione wanted to cry. Preferably in a small, dark, damp hole which was clearly where she belonged.

''I burst into tears and ran away,'' she reminded him gently. ''Ron, I've been feeling a little lonely recently, and I was just trying to ease that.''

''And you picked me! Come on, doesn't that tell you something?''

''Ron, it didn't feel right. I…I don't really know how to explain it, and I will never be sorrier for what I did the other night but…''

''Don't apologise for it,'' Ron's face was falling now, and Hermione felt tears begin to cluster in the corners of her eyes. ''It was one of the best nights ever.''

''Ron, please, I was just looking for comfort, and you deserve so much better than that!''

''I don't care about what you think I deserve. I want you!''

Hermione bit back the first thought in her mind – ''_**Well, I don't want you**_'' was too cruel. ''Ron, I'd like to go home now.''

Without another word, Ron paid the bill and led her to the door. She stepped away before he could Apparate with her. ''Ron, I'm sorry, but I just…I just can't. You're one of my oldest friends, and I need you to be my friend and nothing more.''

''I can be your boyfriend just as well as I can be your friend. Hermione, I've told you how I feel, you know that I love you but I can't do anymore.'' He rubbed the side of his head, clearly embarrassed. ''Please, just think about what I've said. I think we might be better suited than you'd like to admit.''

Leaning forward, he kissed her gently on the cheek, and was gone in a second. Hermione looked blankly at the spot where he had been, and then turned on the spot as well.

Walking, almost in a daze, she stood in front of the dark window, and reached forward a hand, almost touching her reflection. Instead, she knocked.

A pale shape reared up in the gloom. ''What?''

''I know it's late, and you said you don't care…''

Draco stood up and walked towards the door. ''You look awful. What's wrong, did the wonder-date not go too well?''

His sarcastic tone was more than Hermione could bear. ''Fine. Just fine. I don't know what I was thinking, coming here.''

Draco looked at her wan face, the tear-filled eyes and the angry eyes. ''What's wrong?'' This time his voice was gentler. Hermione rummaged in her purse, finding her security pass. Flicking it at the door, she stepped in as it opened, forcing Draco backwards.

''I know it's late and you said you don't care, but I'd like to tell you about my life.''

_**AN: Hey everyone! I know it took a little while to get this chapter up, but I wanted to make sure that it was a good one. Hopefully you agree…which is why a review would be ENORMOUSLY appreciated! Lots of love…Petitesorciere xxx**_


	5. Chapter 5

_''Lead us not into temptation. Just tell us where it is; we'll find it_.'' Sam Levenson

Sitting on Draco's bed, watching as he slid into his chair, Hermione raked her hands back through her hair and breathed in deeply, willing herself to stay calm. She was perfectly sure that if she spoke at that precise moment, her voice would have quivered too much for anything she said to be intelligible. Collecting her thoughts, she chanced a glance at Draco. He was looking at her coolly, his grey eyes betraying no sign of inner turmoil.

Exhaling, she turned her whole body towards him and began to speak. ''I'm not entirely sure what I should tell you. All that I'm really sure about is the fact that when I walked away from you my life got about ten times harder. Everything that had seemed difficult before became almost insurmountable. I couldn't concentrate in class...''

''That must have killed you.'' His voice was flat and bitter, and for the first time Hermione saw him as a snake, sinuous and cruel. No longer was he a lounging panther. All that remained of his velvet glamour was a few threadbare patches, and all his casual grace had twisted into a coiled mass of pain, ready to lash out at anyone.

''Please...please just let me say this.'' She gathered herself and continued. ''I couldn't concentrate in class, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't even cry because of the gossip that would have started. I constantly had a lump in my throat and my heart actually hurt. I'd always thought that people were exaggerating but now I know that heartache is a real thing. And I couldn't understand why it felt so bad. I knew I loved you, I adored you with every single fibre of my being, but I knew that, logically, you were against everything I could ever have wanted and everything that I could ever have. And the guilt that that created was crucifying. I thought that if I picked the thing that had been most constant in my life, I would be doing the right thing. I had expected it to hurt, but I could never have anticipated the level. It was agony. I was utterly devastated.

''I couldn't bear to see you, because everytime I did, this little voice inside me would start screaming about how stupid I was to throw someone so beautiful away. Everytime I heard you speak in class I wanted to clap my hands over my ears and drown you out somehow because no matter what you were saying it changed so that I could just hear you repeating some of the things you used to say to me. Everytime someone even brushed past me in the corridor I would be turning towards them, already smiling, secretly praying that it would be you. I couldn't sit at that table at the back of the library because it would just remind me of that time that you licked that bit of chocolate frog off my hand. And I snapped that you were too greedy and stormed off. And everytime I thought of that I would want to slap myself for ever leaving your side.

''Every so often I would see you being typically Slytherin, bullying other students, sneering at others and I would be able to remind myself why I had to walk away from you. I could tell myself that you were proud, greedy, jealous, possessive, angry, lazy and just motivated by sex.''

''That's not fair!'' Draco sat up straight, glaring at her.

''Maybe not but it's what I had to tell myself.'' She shrugged. ''I might as well not have bothered because the relief that came with that only lasted half-an-hour, at the most. Just when I thought I was going mad, we left school, and I was with Harry and Ron, helping to take down Voldemort. It was easier to be away from you but at the same time, I missed you so much. I thought about you, dreamed about you, and no amount of common sense, no amount of time has ever changed that. I carried on with my life as normally as I could but I never stopped...'' She paused over the last words and then decided she had nothing left to lose. ''I never stopped being in love with you.''

Dragging in a breath, she looked up at Draco, totally aware that she had handed him all her cards.

Draco looked at her, pale and quivering with emotion, completely out of place in a cell. She smelt divine, a cloud of fragrance surrounding her, and the top that she was wearing gleamed expensively where the light hit it. He felt ashamed of himself, like he was some filthy animal dragged up from the sewers, utterly unworthy of any of the feelings that Hermione professed to have for him. ''And you think I didn't feel like shit?You think it was easy for me?''

''I didn't say that.''

''Well, it wasn't. It was horrible. I functioned on autopilot. I couldn't talk to you, I couldn't talk to anyone. And it's all very well you coming back now, but I'm not exactly in a position to do much about that.''

''I don't expect you to do anything...''

''So you just came here to tell me that you've never stopped loving me, that you're hurting really badly, but that's fine and you don't expect anything to change?'' His deeply sarcastic tone cut Hermione as he raged on. ''And you were ok to come back two years later and tell me this while I'm grubbing around in a cell? You didn't want to come and tell me this when we were free of obligations and murder charges? Was this just something to ease a nagging guilt? Well, Hermione, it doesn't work too well if you leave, come back and leave again!''

''Well, maybe I wouldn't have left in the first place if you hadn't been such a selfish idiot!'' Hermione snapped back.

''You left because I was 'a selfish idiot'? That's it? I'm a man, it's my prerogative to be a 'selfish idiot'!''

''You were more than an idiot, you were an egotistical fuckwit! I don't know what the hell I expected this would accomplish.'' Hermione dashed away angry tears, furious with herself.

''Then why did you come?'' Draco shouted. ''Just to rub my nose in the fact that I can't have you no matter how much I want you, and no matter how sorry you are?''

''I came here because I needed you!'' She screamed.

The silence that suddenly fell was deafening. Hermione closed her eyes, sucked in air and let it out in a juddering gasp. Still with her eyes closed, she whispered into the stillness. ''Even when you had been at your worst, you would always be able to say something that made everything seem ok. You could always calm me down and I needed you to do that tonight. I suppose I forgot that you aren't under that obligation anymore.''

She opened her eyes again and saw Draco right in front of her. ''I was never under any obligation to do anything. I did it because I wanted to. Because you made me feel better everytime you needed me. It meant I was good enough to do something...nice.''

Hermione shook her head slowly and looked at him. ''You were always good enough. You just chose to do stupid things.''

Draco reached out a calloused hand and brushed away a stray tear. ''Why did you need me tonight?''

''Ron told me that he loved me and that all we needed was each other. It was my fault. I thought I could make myself love him, and then I could move on. So I kissed him and realised I was wrong, so I ran away. But then I let Harry talk me into a date. If I'd just said no, I wouldn't have gotten upset and I would never have put us both through this.''

Draco wiped away another of her tears and she closed her eyes briefly in silent bliss at the feel of his skin on hers. ''I'm glad you put us through this.''

''Really?'' She looked at him and Draco thought his heart would split with love. She looked so vulnerable, her doe-like eyes red-rimmed.

''Of course. And if Ron would make you happy, you've got to push any memories aside and go for it.'' He forced the words out of his reluctant mouth, desperate to hold her to him but not wanting to keep her unhappy.

''No!'' She said vehemently. ''I don't want Ron!''

''What do you want then?'''

''You,'' she said fiercely. ''You're what I want!'' He didn't say anything and she drew back slightly, her cheeks flushed with embarassment. ''Unless you don't want me.''

''Don't ever think that!'' Draco knelt on the floor beside her, holding her hands tightly and looking deep into her eyes. They were so close that Hermione could see every single shade in his grey eyes, the silver and the smoke. She could see the stubble that flecked his jaw, stronger now than it had been than when they were at Hogwarts. ''But you have to understand Hermione. No matter how much I want you, no matter how much I need you, no matter how much I love you, I am not in a position to give you the things you deserve.''

''All I want is you. I don't think there's anything you could give me that's more precious than that.''

''Hermione,'' he said, impatiently. ''I wasn't enough for you before. You just told me that, and you don't know that anything's changed, and I don't want to put the pair of us through that again.''

''You were enough, you were just other things as well! And you've gotten rid of those. You're obviously not possessive, you just told me to get with Ron if it would make me happy.'' She paused. ''Unless you were trying to let me down gently and I was just too dense to understand.''

And with that Draco leapt up, sitting next to her and clasping her small face in his long hands. ''Do you not listen? I just told you : don't you _ever_ think that,'' he growled. ''Ever. You are the only person I have ever wanted this passionately.''

Hermione thought she was dreaming. Holding her hands round the base of his neck as though he were the only thing keeping her anchored in that moment, as he slowly but assuredly pulled her face closer to his.

They rested for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, nose to nose, their breath brushing against each other's lips. Draco could only see the soft brown eye with the fringe of black lashes brushing the velvety cheek below as she blinked.

Hermione barely dared to think that what she had longed for for two endless years might actually be about to happen. She could feel silky soft strands of Draco's white-blonde hair brushing against her temple, she could smell the sweetness of his skin.

And then, anticipation and excitement fluttering through her veins, Hermione felt Draco's lips brush gently across hers. As their breath mingled, Draco tipped her head back, deepening the angle of the kiss. He kissed her lower lip, stroking her hair, the side of her face, revelling in her taste which was better than he could ever have remembered, the subtleties of the flavour overwhelming his mind.

Unable to hold herself upright any longer, Hermione fell backwards, feeling Draco's glorious weight cover her as she twisted her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer and closer, feeling like she would explode with happiness.

In that dingy cell, two broken people became whole again, all the pain of two, tearful years temporarily erased.

_**AN: I cannot apologise enough for the delay that there has been in getting this chapter up. My laptop (which was ancient, in all fairness to it), finally decided that it had had enough, gave up the ghost and died. So I have dashed out this chapter in an internet cafe (thereby explaining any typos - very sorry). I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope it made up for the long wait - reviews will be ENORMOUSLY appreciated. Lots of love...petitesorciere**___


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione woke up and thought that the dream of Draco's arm over her body was notably vivid that morning

Hermione woke up and thought that the dream of Draco's arm over her body was notably vivid that morning. Opening her eyes, she saw the grey wall opposite her and immediately jerked awake, wondering what had happened to her pale blue bedroom wall. Sitting up, she looked around and then down, and gasped in pleasure. ''Oh!''

For there, in front of her delighted eyes, draped in the thin, uniform sheets of a prison, was Draco. Almost as if he could feel the heat of her gaze on his face, , his eyelids fluttered and slowly opened, revealing the smoky eyes that looked effortlessly beyond any façade that she might present to the world.

He smiled sleepily and tugged her face down to his, a warm arm secure around her waist. ''You have no idea…''

''How long you've waited for this? Believe me, I do.'' Hermione returned his kiss, and brushed his hair back off his forehead. ''I suppose I'd better go though.''

''You have to?''

''It doesn't look very professional – and I'm sure there's some sort of rule against you having…visitors in your cell.''

Draco reluctantly released her. ''Just the one visitor.''

''All the same.'' Hermione stepped into her jeans and turned to look at him, her face glowing. ''But I'll be back later.''

''I thought there was 'some sort of rule' against that sort of thing,'' he retorted, but he was standing up and hindering the progress of her top over her head. ''Honestly Hermione, it's a lovely top but you look infinitely better without it.''

''Public decency laws don't agree. And as for me coming back later, I thought you might care for the use of my brain – like I promised you.''

''You don't mind doing that for me?'' He asked, moving behind her, pulling her hair to one side and gently kissing her shoulder.

''I have an added incentive now.'' She turned around, burrowing against his bare chest. ''You may be growing attached to these four walls but I'd rather have you in my bedroom.''

''Why, Miss Granger! How you've changed!''

Poking his ribs, she burrowed through her handbag for a comb. ''And what do you mean by that? I'm just not particularly liking the interior decoration choices that have been made in here!''

Draco laughed softly and kissed the top of her head. ''Come back soon.''

''Nothing could keep me away.'' She answered simply and kissed him, letting their lips move together in the way that she never tired of. Breaking apart and gratefully receiving the smile that spread across his face, she felt truly happy, regardless of the grim situation that she was in.

Watching her slip out of his cell, Draco felt a small sense of bereavement. Sitting down and pulling his top over his head, he told himself that everything would be ok, that she would be back soon, that they would work together and get him out and live happily ever after…Shaking his head, he woke himself up. The fairy godmother he was wishing for wasn't there just yet. But Hermione was there, with her soft, trusting brown eyes, with her sweet smile, and with the teasing quirk to her face as she poked good-natured fun at him.

The beautiful vision that was now hovering tantalisingly within his reach disappeared into the ether as the door to his cell opened again and Catton stepped in, a smirk across his face. ''Alone now then Mr. Malfoy?''

Draco stiffened. ''And what do you mean by that?''

Catton laughed mirthlessly. ''You're in a cell under constant surveillance, did you honestly think that Miss Granger's presence in your cell would go unnoticed? How very professional of her to work such late nights, or does she just provide services other than legal defence?''

Draco stood up but was instantly forced backwards by the charm on the cell that protected Catton. Straining against the magic, he snarled at the sneering official. ''If I weren't held back…''

''What a temper you have Mr. Malfoy – one would almost believe that it was the temper of a murderer. A Death Eater's temper in fact.''

Draco stared coldly at the man, knowing perfectly well that his sudden flash of temper at the jibes was going to be used against him. ''Don't you dare insinuate anything about Hermione.''

''A protective Death Eater? How novel.'' Catton's faux-nonchalance couldn't hide his anxiety at the steely glint in his prisoner's countenance. ''But nothing will protect Miss Granger from such insinuations if she persists in such…lewd behaviour with deviants like you.''

''I'll protect her.''

''A lot of use you'll be to her in prison.''

''I won't be staying here.''

Catton just laughed and left the cell, leaving Draco alone to contemplate the apparent futility of his life. All of his earlier glow had dissipated.

When he had woken that morning, his head resting in Hermione's lap, her beautiful face looking down at him, he had momentarily forgotten all the troubles that he had faced over the last two years and all the problems that were coming up. Everything was back to blissful, wonderful normality. And then true normality kicked in and once again he was facing a future where he was left alone to contend with a hostile world. Because there was no way he could expect Hermione to deal with the isolation that would come from any association with him; loving her as he did meant that he would have to protect her and surely the best way to protect her would be to…to push her away? But how could he face not being with her? He loved Hermione too much to be selfless.

Sighing, he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had honestly thought that he had seen off the worst years of his life, believing that when he was captured that he would have the chance to defend himself to a new and unbiased ministry. He was wrong: all they wanted was another scapegoat. And Draco wasn't willing to be that scapegoat.

When he had woken up in the Room of Requirements, two years ago, his arms empty and Hermione's ribbon in his hand, he had no idea what to do. He knew that he had lost the most important thing in his life, and he knew that it had been entirely due to his own behaviour. Sitting for hours, a few tears rolling down his face, he wondered what he was meant to do.

He had left the room, deciding that he would talk to Hermione: she didn't know what she was doing, she would allow herself to be talked around to his point of view. But to his surprise, she had refused to even speak to him, just running away with a grieved expression written across her countenance. He couldn't say anything to make her change her mind.

After a while, he stopped being upset and started being bitter. There was no reason for her to be such a _flaky bitch_ , he would mutter darkly to himself. He had given her the best time she would ever have, and she thought she could just throw him away? He would show her. So he slept with every single girl that he could use his brittle charm to get into bed. And yet, it didn't work. He would lie in bed, looking at their redheads, their blonde locks and wonder why they couldn't get rid of the ache inside him. He refused to believe that Hermione could possibly be exerting such a hold on him, when she refused to even speak to him. Just when he thought that he was going mad, they had left school, and his father was taking him to his first Death Eater meeting.

Draco had wondered at the time exactly what kind of literature his father had been reading to make him think that a suitable father-son activity was a visit to a dark and dingy cave where a psychotic murderer lectured them about the inferiority of Muggle-born witches and wizards. Draco knew that what Voldemort was saying was the kind of thing that he had been brought up with, things that should have sounded perfectly logical to his ears. And yet, after lying with Hermione in his arms, after kissing her soft lips, there was something that seemed so inherently wrong about threatening to kill her type. Was there even a specific type? She was a better witch than he was a wizard, and it really didn't seem to matter that much. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to voice his opinion, just sly enough to keep an eye out for any possibly escape route.

Eventually it came, after a particularly ghastly confrontation with his supposed leader, and he had fled into the night, hoping that he would be able to lie low until the war ended. He knew he was a coward but an instinct for self-preservation was significantly stronger than his noble streak. He stole copies of the Daily Prophet, and rejoiced when he finally saw the headlines declaring the end of the war. He sat, stroking the picture of Hermione (ignoring Harry and Ron, who were also beaming out), thanking whatever deity there was for keeping her safe, for leading her to such a glorious victory. He began to allow himself to dream again, to think of a future where he would be able to apologise, and let her apologise as well, and they would be able to be blissfully happy. And then the Ministry blew it by capturing him. The bastards.

It was clear to him, as he lay in his cell, that there was nothing he could do to defend himself. Nothing that he said made any difference, and yet he couldn't make himself give up. Why should he have to resign himself to a life of imprisonment when he had done nothing terrible? Well, he amended, of course he had gotten involved in a couple of incidents of…'intimidation', but he had never killed anyone. Ever. So he carried on his futile battle.

But then Hermione came back: beautiful, infuriating and reassuringly confident in her know-it-all status. And then after last night – where they had apologised to each other, and finally let themselves admit that they hadn't moved on, that they were never likely to move on, when they had had that amazing night together, beautiful in it's familiarity, and yet new and exciting, a wonderful reunion. He sighed and a small, irrepressible smile slid across his lips.

And she had said she would come back, he marvelled. She was still keen to get him out, she didn't just want to gloat over the way he was incarcerated. She actually wanted to get him out of prison and start a new life with him. He couldn't quite believe his luck. And he knew that she felt exactly the same way. But once again, something was coming between them.

Screw Catton, he thought. Maybe Hermione would say something that would actually be listened to. Maybe, everything would be ok for once.

Hermione sat in front of her mirror, and held earrings against her face. Which pair would look best? She was distracted from her sparkly reverie by a knock at her front door. Skipping through the rooms, grinning to herself, impatient to get rid of the visitor and get back to daydreaming about Draco. Flinging open the door, her heart stopped as she saw a shock of flaming red hair. ''Ron! What are you doing here?''

''Well, I'm here to see you,'' he answered, slightly bemused by her question. ''Can I come in?''

''Oh…Ron, I'm getting ready to go out, so…''

''I'll just talk to you while you get ready.'' He was already moving inside her house with an easy familiarity that Hermione suddenly found incredibly irksome. He was already sitting in her bedroom, waiting for her to come through so he could talk to her. Sighing, she followed him through and sat back down at her dressing table.

''So, what's up Ron?''

''Well, I came to see if you'd thought about…what I said to you last time I spoke to you.''

Hermione cursed loudly and vehemently inside her head. Why was he bringing this up? Surely it wasn't gentlemanly? ''Ron, I said at the time, you're my friend. And I only need you to be my friend.''

He didn't move from his position on the end of the bed, and just looked at her coolly. ''I'm not going to give up on you Hermione.''

''Now is the time for you to do so,'' she said absentmindedly. The small stud earrings would be perfect, she thought, slotting them in. Standing up, she brushed down her top. ''Right Ron, I hate to be harsh, but I've got to go.''

''Ok,'' he said with evenly. ''Where are you off to?''

''Work.''

''On a Sunday? Merlin Hermione, how hard are they working you?''

''Oh…I'm just doing something at the moment that I want to get some extra work on.''

''Fair enough. Hey, did you hear that they arrested Draco Malfoy?''

Hermione froze. Shit. He knew. He knew, and he had known all along, and he was playing her and trying to get her to admit her association with Draco, and they had secretly hated her all along, and now it was all going to come out in the open…Breathing deeply, she told herself firmly that that was not the case. ''Yes, I did know.''

''About time hey? Finally, one of the major Death Eaters, caught and ready to be punished!''

''You don't know that he's guilty! Until he's proved so, you shouldn't say things like that!'' She flared up, glaring at him as she spoke.

''What the hell is wrong with you?'' Ron shouted. ''You're constantly touchy at the moment and it's bloody irritating! I'm trying to make conversation!''

''Sorry,'' she said, subsiding. ''sorry.''

He stared at her and made a concerted effort to move on. ''So what's this thing you're working on? I can't imagine any species needs protection so much that you have to work at the weekend.''

''Oh…I'm….I'm…''Hermione's mind had gone blank, and the only thing she could think to say was the truth. ''I'm defending a prisoner who wasn't being given any legal aid.''

''Another one of Hermione's lost causes,'' Ron chuckled. ''Go on, what's he done?''

Maybe it was the fact that he had seemed so comfortable in her own apartment, maybe it was the fact that he had stopped her thinking about Draco for several minutes, maybe it was simply that he thought he knew her so well, but Hermione snapped. ''He's accused of being a Death Eater.''

Ron grabbed her elbow and spun her around. ''Are you kidding?''

''Do I look like I'm joking?''

''No, which is worrying me. Please Hermione, you cannot be defending Draco Malfoy!''

''Yes I can, and I am!''

''How can you do this to me?''

''What are you talking about?'' She was screaming now, her cheeks flushed. ''The world does not revolve around you and your pathetic pride!''

''No, the world revolves around loyalty to friends!''

''How is my defending Draco making me less of a friend?''

''Oh, it's Draco now?''

''Get over yourself Ron, and grow up!''

''For someone who's so clever, you can be a fucking idiot at times.''

''How dare you speak to me like that? Get out! Go on, GET OUT!'' She pointed imperiously at the door, and without another word Ron stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Hermione sat down, tipping her head against the wall. What a prat. How could he make such judgements about her? She knew that what she was doing was right, and she knew that she wanted to be doing it, which was probably the strongest argument ever. She had spent her whole life being self-sacrificing and noble, and as far as she was concerned, it was time to be selfish. And she knew, in her heart of hearts, that Draco was innocent. And an idiot who was fixated on her even if that was sort of her fault, she admitted reluctantly, would not bully her out of that conviction.

Walking down the corridor to Draco's cell a little later, she saw Catton waiting for her. ''Mr. Catton,'' she greeted him coldly.

''Miss Granger, just the young lady I was hoping to see.''

''I'm not sure who else you expected to see outside Mr. Malfoy's cell.''

''Now, that's a very formal way of referring to him given that you spent the night with him, is it not?'' Catton smirked at her, looked her up and down, and Hermione felt shockingly vulnerable.

''What I do in my own time is none of your business Mr. Catton. It doesn't affect the handling of Draco's case at all.''

''How lovely. I'm sure the Wizengamot will see that Draco is being represented by an entirely unbiased counsel, and be entirely convinced by any arguments you could present. I mean, it's not like a defendant's lover would lie about him in order to make him seem innocent, is it?''

Draco, listening anxiously at the door of his cell, felt his heart clench in an icy grip. What would Hermione say to that? She wouldn't give up, he knew that, but what could she possibly do to make that threat stop?

''Interesting point Mr. Catton. But then, I suppose it's not like a Ministry desperately seeking a scapegoat would accuse just anyone of being a Death Eater. It looks like we're both entirely unbiased, doesn't it?'' And, with a final, contemptuous glance at the official, Hermione swept regally past him and into Draco's cell.

Draco looked at her with the most fervent love in his eyes that she had ever seen, and she stepped forward to kiss him. ''Why do you look so happy?''

''Because you're wonderful,'' he said simply. ''You didn't let him get to you at all.''

''Catton? He's a tool.''

Draco looked at her, and thought it was possible that he might just pass out from sheer joy. Instead, he grabbed her and kissed her enthusiastically. ''I thought you couldn't get any better, but you're just unbelievably good.''

''I know darling, but trust me, you're just as good.'' And with that, she pulled out her colour-coded notes and folders and began preparing his defence.

_**AN: I'm sorry, so sorry. I know it's been forever, but I have many excuses. First, my laptop broke, then the boiler in my house broke and that took ages to sort, then the house fell victim to a slug infestation (gotta love student housing), and then it was my birthday, so I've been rather busy. But here is the next chapter, and I really hope you all enjoyed it! Reviews are, as always, enormously appreciated. Love…petitesorciere xxx**_


	7. Chapter 7

''I generally avoid temptation, unless I can't resist it.'' Mae West.

Hermione looked balefully at her front door, and wondered when the banging was going to stop. The fact that her unwanted visitor had been knocking persistently for over half an hour now made her feel very uneasy, and very sure that she wasn't going to enjoy the discussion that was going to ensue if she opened the door. So she resolved not to open the door. But maybe she should check who it was, she thought. Sliding forward surreptitiously, she pressed her eye to the peephole, and immediately regretted it.

Ron was slouched against the wall opposite her front door, watching as Harry pounded his fists against the door.

''Harry, maybe she's not in,'' he suggested.

''Well, she wasn't at work. Unless she's with _him_.'' Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and carried on watching through the peephole. It was far more satisfying than opening the door and letting them harangue her about something that she had no interest in changing her position on. Plus, they looked so silly – obviously thinking that they were being surreptitious by sitting out in her hall and hissing at each other.

Harry gave the door a particularly violent thump and Hermione jumped back, wondering precisely why they were so bothered by the fact that she was providing legal aid for Draco. They didn't know that he was her lover. And they had fought for fairness, she thought indignantly, and she was helping something fair to happen now.

''She is in Ron, look, her light's on.'' Harry banged the door again, and called. ''Hermione! Hermione, I know you're in there.''

Hermione raised an eyebrow and thought about how delicious it would be to open the door and tell him that he sounded like a particularly obsessive stalker. But that would mean proving him right, and that was a simply unbearable idea. Why was he being so irritating? She had never noticed him being that irritating before.

Changing her angle slightly, she looked at Ron; he was looking at Harry with an expression of grim determination, and a kind of anticipation.

Hermione's blood boiled and she wrenched the door open just as Harry was about to pound his fist against it yet again, sending him reeling as he tried to right himself. ''May I help you?''

''I knew you were in,'' Harry said, almost triumphantly.

''I didn't say I wasn't,'' Hermione said, as calmly as she possibly could. ''Would you like to come in?''

Standing back to let her friends in, thinking that they looked like a modern day version of the three musketeers, and trying to shut out the feeling of impending doom that was wafting in with them. Following them through to the sitting room, she looked at them, already comfortable on her sofas. ''Is this some form of intervention?''

''You could say that.'' Ron looked at her mutinously.

''If this is about what I think it's about, I can assure you that Draco Malfoy is not an addiction.'' He's much more compulsive than an addiction, she added silently.

''Why are you even getting involved with him?'' Harry asked angrily.

''I think the question could be, why are you not?'' Hermione retorted. ''We fought for equality, and Draco Malfoy is entitled to that same equality.''

''Death Eaters are not entitled to equality! They didn't want it in the first place, so they aren't allowed to use it now!''

''By that argument Ron, any child who says that they don't like a vegetable, should never be allowed to eat it again. Completely flawed logic and you know it.''

''Malfoy is not a vegetable!''

''It was an analogy!'' She screamed back. ''Stop being so bloody literal! I want to make sure that he gets a chance to defend himself, and you are overreacting!''

''Overreacting? Hermione, what the hell's wrong with you? Have you forgotten what he put you through, put us through, at school?''

''Grow up Ron! That was ages ago, and I personally, am not in the habit of holding grudges against anyone who ever upset me. If I did, then I wouldn't be speaking to you, that's for sure!''

''Oh, very mature Hermione. What is this, are you just bored of not having a worthless cause to uphold? Is Malfoy the new SPEW?''

Hermione clenched her fists, and felt her nails dig into her palm. ''You are one of the most pig-headed people I know. You think that just because I care about the welfare of those around me, I'm some sort of nutcase that needs you barging in on my life and trying to control it.''

''I'm doing it because I care about you!''

''And haven't we heard about it?'' Hermione shouted. ''Are you sure this isn't some vestigial jealousy? Are you jealous of Draco?''

''Do I have reason to be?''

Harry stepped forward. ''Ok, this is getting slightly out of hand. Hermione, I just don't understand why the hell you're defending that murderer.''

''Oh for God's sake, why do you have to understand everything? Why can't you just accept that I'm doing it?''

But before Harry could answer, Ron held up his hand imperiously. ''Hang on a minute Harry. Hermione didn't answer my question.''

''What question?'' she snarled, willing the whole excruciating scene to be over.

''Do I have reason to be jealous of Draco Malfoy?'' He spoke clearly, enunciating each word.

''What are you talking about Ron?''

''Stop trying to divert me and answer the question. You asked me if I was jealous of Malfoy, and I asked you if I needed to be jealous of him. So answer me.''

Hermione stared at his familiar face, the freckles bright against his pale skin, his blue eyes slightly narrowed. ''I don't understand why it's so important for you to know that.''

''I don't understand you full stop. You're a mystery and you seem to be so fucking happy about it! Now, are you going to answer the sodding question or not?''

''Don't you dare speak to me like that!''

''ANSWER THE QUESTION!''

Hermione glared at him, let her eyes flick to Harry, who was looking at her apprehensively. She could feel him mentally begging her not to rock the boat, not to make things more difficult than they already were. A flash of anger sparked through her, and without thinking, she let her mouth take over, with no input at all from her mind.

''You know what Ron, you probably should be jealous of Draco. After all, you want my undying love don't you? And you won't be able to have it because Draco got there first.'' Hermione listened to the bitterly spiteful words pouring out of her mouth and felt her eyes begin to prickle with tears. ''I love him Ron. We saw each other in our seventh year at school, but he wanted me to stop talking to you two and I wasn't going to do that, But I never stopped loving him and when I saw him again…''

Ron's face was blanched now. ''You love…you love him?''

Hermione swallowed, immediately regretting the fact that she had let her mouth take over. It had to be said, but it didn't need to be said like that. ''Ron, I didn't mean to say it that cruelly.''

''You love him?''

Hermione sighed, knowing that she couldn't take back what she'd said. ''Yes.''

''You've loved him since Seventh Year?''

''Yes. I broke up with him when he said that he didn't want me to talk to you two any more. But he's changed since then. He says he didn't kill anyone and I genuinely believe him.''

''You're so gullible it's unbelievable! He was a Death Eater!''

''You were a Gryffindor but you were never brave enough to tell me how you felt, were you?''

Harry stepped forward. ''Hermione that's out of order.''

''Well, what do you want me to say Harry? There is nothing I can say that will make all of this ok! I love Draco Malfoy! I'm sorry, but there it is, and I can't change that. I don't want to change that. And I will carry on defending him. We fought for equality, and what I'm doing now is continuing with that fight. I won't let anyone be a scapegoat for the Ministry!''

''Some people aren't scapegoats – they're just guilty!''

''What makes you the expert? We never saw Draco doing anything wrong, and neither did anyone else! The worst that he's been implicated in is a couple of Death Eater meetings. If I let him get sent to prison, then I'll be taking part in a huge miscarriage of justice!''

Ron stood up. ''You're mad.''

''Ron, I know what I'm doing is right, and I know that I've hurt you, but please…''

''Please what?''

''You're one of my oldest friends, please just support me in this.''

He laughed, bitterly. ''You think I'm going to help you keep Draco Malfoy out of prison? You've got another thing coming. I'm not giving up any of my principles to help you, no matter how many of yours you've sacrificed.''

''I haven't sacrificed any of my principles! And I'm not asking you to stand up and say that you think Draco is innocent, or anything like that. Please just don't walk out like this.'' She stood up as well, silently imploring him not to turn his back on her. She wasn't ready to lose one of the oldest friends she had, no matter how irritating he was, no matter how much he infuriated her.

But Harry was standing up as well, and they were moving towards the door, their faces implacable.

''I'm not giving up anything to do that for you,'' Ron called over his shoulder.

''I gave up Draco for you! I gave up the love of my life for you once, and I can't do it again – it'll kill me! Please!'' But her only answer was the door slamming, sealing her into her apartment. Falling to the floor, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed, unable to believe that a friendship that had weathered inequality, war and death was falling apart because of love. It couldn't have made any less sense.

Draco stared at his ceiling and thought that it was a view that he was getting really bored of. The sooner that he was out, the better. And he would be able to take Hermione out for dates, and wake up a free man, and walk down the street with his head held high. He was just about to doze off when the door to his cell swung open.

Sitting up, blinking in the light, he wondered why Hermione was standing in his doorway at two in the morning. ''Hermione?''

His answer was an incoherent sob.

''What's wrong?''

''They…they dumped me.'' She cried, grateful for his warmth as he took her into his arms and rocked her back and forth, kissing the top of her head and stroking her back.

''Who dumped you?''

''Harry and Ron, you idiot.'' She gasped. ''They don't want me being with you.''

Draco lapsed into silence, and recommenced rocking her gently, listening as she explained what had happened. He knew what he had to say but how was he meant to spit the words out? ''Hermione, if you're this upset maybe…''

She sat bolt upright, glaring at him. ''Don't even think about finishing that sentence. I am not leaving you again! It nearly killed me once, and I won't ever willingly walk away from you again.''

Draco kissed her forehead. ''I just want to make sure you're happy.''

''I'm happy when I'm with you. That's enough.''

''Are you sure?''

''Of course I'm sure. Stop being an idiot.''

''Personal abuse. Now I know that you're feeling better.''

She giggled and sniffed. ''Say a stupid thing, get an insult in return. It's an offer I'm running at the moment.''

''Come here you.'' He held her tight to him, his nose buried in her hair. ''You know how much I love you?''

''Not as much as I love you.''

''Well, I love you enough to forbear from ravishing you, because I know that Catton is watching the cell.''

''And I love you enough to stay even though he's going to call me a slut in the morning.''

''About even then.'' Draco lay down on the bed, and pulled her with him, putting her head on his chest, and wrapping his arm around her. ''Comfortable.''

She nodded sleepily. ''I can't wait 'til you get out of here.''

''Me neither.''

''Do you think it'll be odd? Not having just the one room to be in?''

''It'll be amazing.''

''Tell me about it.'' She cuddled herself closer to him.

Draco took a deep breath in. ''you want to hear what I think it will be like?''

''Yes. It'll be like a bedtime story. So it'd better be happy.''

''Well…we'll wake up every morning together, cuddled together like this, so that you can't steal the duvets.''

''I don't steal duvets!''

''Shush, stop interrupting my story. So, we'll wake up together every morning, and have breakfast, and then go to work, and spend all day thinking of each other. Then when we get home, we'll kiss, just like this.'' He twisted his head, and firmly pressed his lips against hers, full of love and promise, his tongue flickering gently against her lips, making her head spin. ''And then, we'll have dinner, and talk and laugh, and then I'll carry you up to bed, and not let you leave my arms, and then we'll fall asleep and dream of each other. And then the next day, it can begin again.''

There was a small pause, and then Hermione whispered ''that's a lovely story.''

''It's not a story. That's going to be our life.''

And with a contented sigh, forgetting all the troubles of her life, Hermione fell asleep in her lover's arms.

_**AN: Hey everyone, again - I'm sorry for the delay. I've had some writer's block, and I've been really busy. I'm still not 100 happy with this chapter which is why it's a bit shorter than the others. Hopefully you've enjoyed it - please, please, please, please review! Love petitesorciere xxx**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**''Those who flee temptation generally leave a forwarding address'' Lane Olinghouse.**_

Hermione straightened her robes nervously, and shuffled her papers into a neat pile. She was sitting at a table in the main chamber of the Ministry, the eyes of the Wizengamot staring down imposingly at her. She raised her chin proudly, wishing that her mouth wasn't as incredibly dry as it was: she was sure that her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth.

She still hadn't heard from Ron and Harry, and her stubborn nature refused to allow her to give in and call them. They would come to her eventually, she decided, no matter how long it took. Surely they couldn't be so incredibly mulish as to ignore her over something like this? She exhaled heavily: of course they could, and they would, be.

She was distracted from her reverie by the clank of chains outside the chamber. As she rose to her feet, Draco walked through the door, his mouth tight and his wrists manacled. Hermione's blood boiled. ''Minister, this is unacceptable! My client is entitled to a fair trial, which he can hardly be having if his jury see him dragged before them in chains!''

The Minister rolled his eyes, perfectly aware that the trial would be full of endless objections from Miss Granger. ''Release the defendant's chains.''

Draco gave a tense smile, and allowed himself to be led to a small wooden chair. His face was even paler than usual, making the silvery blonde stubble around his jaw seem unusually dark. His eyes flicked from one impassive face to another as he scanned the gallery of judges. All he recognised were a series of faces from families that his father had ridden roughshod over in his attempts to get to the top. It didn't bode well for him, he thought dolefully.

Hermione stood up and plastered a look of confidence onto her face, hoping that the Wizengamot couldn't see through it. ''Minister, I move that Draco Malfoy has been unfairly accused as the Ministry seeks a scapegoat for the atrocities committed during the war. There is no evidence linking him to any of the various crimes with which he has been charged, and as such, I would advise that he is released promptly, and with the full support of the Ministry.''

Catton stood up, and cleared his throat. ''Quite simply, I would ask that Mr Malfoy raise his right sleeve. The Dark Mark there is evidence enough.''

''Pius Thicknesse remains sitting on that bench despite the fact that he worked as a Death Eater for the majority of the war!'' Hermione retorted. ''A Dark Mark is not proof of an allegiance to Voldemort!''

''Malfoy's entire family were prominent members of the Death Eaters! Their son is no different!'' Catton's face was turning an unattractive shade of red.

''Family ties hold for nothing in a court of law!''

The Minister cleared his throat. ''I will not have this trial turn into a catfight between the two counsels. Mr Catton, please begin your examination of the defendant.''

Hermione subsided into her seat and looked at Draco, attempting a smile but failing miserably. She couldn't help but feel that she had stumbled at the first hurdle; unable to defend Draco from any of the slurs heaped on him. He gazed back at her, his expression worried. She couldn't blame him, she thought.

Draco didn't even hear Catton begin to talk, he was too caught up in staring at Hermione. She was looking paler and thinner than he had ever seen her, dark shadows beginning to gather under her eyes. She had spent the last couple of days desperately searching for any kind of precedent that would get Draco off scot-free, trying to reassure both herself and him that everything would be ok, and they would finally get their fairy tale ending. And yet, there was nothing. Draco's heart ached, as he longed to gather her up and cradle her, letting nothing harm her. He jerked back to reality as a slight inflection in Catton's voice demanded his attention. ''I'm sorry, could you repeat the question please?''

Catton rolled his eyes: could the Wizengamot see what he had to deal with? ''I asked you whether or not it is true that you have the Dark Mark on your arm?''

''Yes, that's true.'' Draco said evenly.

''Well, that would seem to indicate straight away that you were an active Death Eater.''

''My father, already referred to by you as one of the most prominent Death Eaters in Voldemort's circle, took me along to one of the meetings. I had no idea that that was what he was planning.''

''But surely you knew what having the Dark Mark would entail? Why didn't you just refuse to have be branded with the Mark?''

''Mr Catton, I assure you that I'm not a moron. I knew exactly what the Dark Mark would link me to, but I also knew that I would be killed on the spot if I refused to receive it. I valued my life rather more than my reputation, to be honest.''

''Why did you not break off contact with your father when you became aware of his dealings?''

'' Because I was 16, and utterly dependent on him.''

''A sweet little sob story. I assure you Mr Malfoy, that will guarantee you no sympathy in this court.''

''I'm not looking for sympathy,'' Draco muttered. ''I will also freely admit, that I didn't see a huge problem with joining the Death Eaters. It was a group composed of family friends, and it was a way to make me feel more…powerful, I suppose. I didn't see Voldemort asking me to do anything, it would just be a club that I could join in with, without any serious obligations. But then the demands began, and I realised that I was…in over my head, to say the least. I began to try and withdraw from the group, but it wasn't until I received one order that I simply couldn't follow, that I found myself able to run. I spent the war in hiding, praying that Voldemort wouldn't find me. And then the Ministry found me.'' He shrugged as if to downplay the enormity of what he had just said.

Catton rolled his eyes. ''So you found the 'courage' to run? Mr Malfoy, please, what kind of ridiculous story is this? For starters, what was the order that you were given that you refused to follow? Or is it, conveniently enough, too morally repugnant for you to disclose to this court?''

''I would prefer not to say, but…''

''How handy!'' Catton bawled.

''Mr Catton! If you would please let my client speak!'' Hermione stood up, her whole posture rigid with fury. ''This is hardly fair!''

''Much as it pains me to say, I agree with Miss Granger,'' the Minister said wearily.

Hermione turned to him indignantly, ''Minister, I hardly think that…''

''Miss Granger, I've already weighed in on your side. Please don't push me.''

She reluctantly sat back down, and let Catton continue in a slightly subdued voice. ''I believe the court would like very much to know precisely what you were ordered to do that you found so beneath you.''

''I was…ordered to kill someone.'' He answered reluctantly.

''How long had you been a member of the Death Eaters before you were given this order?''

''Roughly a year.''

''You lasted a whole year in the company of murderers and torturers without being asked to commit a murder yourself? Many would consider you unfeasibly lucky.''

''The length of time didn't make the order any easier.''

''I must say it's lovely how you have an answer for everything Mr Malfoy.''

''Objection! I fail to see what this has to do with the trial!'' Hermione's voice quivered slightly, the amount of adrenaline in her system destroying her nerves.

''I am just commenting, Minister, that Mr Malfoy's almost flawless answers would suggest that he has been coached. Surely there would have been time for Miss Granger', he placed an unpleasant emphasis on the words, ''to have informed her client of what best to say. In case the esteemed members of the Wizengamot are not aware, Miss Granger and Malfoy are involved in a…relationship, for want of a better world. She has spent frequent nights in his cell.''

Hermione's cheeks flushed bright red as the rustling of whispers echoed through the chamber. The Minister leaned forward. ''Miss Granger, surely you were aware of how this would look? You cannot expect your arguments to be taken seriously if you're in a relationship with the defendant!''

Hermione took a deep breath and rose to her feet. ''I would argue that it shows my level of faith in my client. You accuse him of being a Death Eater, the very kind of person that would be happy to kill me. I am, after all, a Muggle-born. And yet, I feel secure enough to spend time with Mr Malfoy, as isolated as we could possibly have been. His behaviour is clearly not that of a member of Voldemort's inner circle!''

Catton snorted quietly. ''His aggression towards the guards has been well-documented.''

''No, his anger at the inhumane treatment that you have subjected him to has been well documented!'' Hermione snapped back.

The Minister slapped the desk in front of him. ''Will the pair of you stop this? Not only it is undignified, it is highly unconstructive. Mr Catton, please make no further references to Miss Granger's relationship with the defendant. The Wizengamot will quiz her on that in due course.''

As Catton continued with his examination, attempting to damn Draco with every word, Hermione sat back in her chair and stared blankly at her notes. How could she have been so stupid? She had always managed to delay gratification before: refusing trips to Hogsmeade because she had work to do, never eating too much before dinner. And now, the one time that it was truly important not to, she had given in to temptation. Because of her, Draco was facing the harshest sentence that could be inflicted on him. By loving him, she had cast doubt on her own competence as Draco's defence, and was running the risk of losing the one thing that truly mattered to her. Icy fingers ran down her spine as she contemplated a life where Draco was always separated from her: not by their own stupidity and stubborn natures, but by walls and spells. It was terrifying.

Draco looked around the chamber, aware of the need to focus on Catton's interrogation, but unable to concentrate. Hermione looked petrified. She clearly thought that she had all but placed the black cap on her head and sentenced him to a life sentence. Absentmindedly giving an answer, he wondered if there was going to be anything that he could say to console her, or whether she would be locked into her cycle of despair and determination. He couldn't believe that the most pure thing in his life was being turned into something dirty; something that courts would look at and shake their heads, something that the media would print in screaming black letters, something that people would whisper and point about. To him, that had always been the one redeeming feature: he might have been a coward, a bully, a manipulator, but at least he was able to recognise and adore someone so wonderful as Hermione, complete with her flaws and foibles.

Finally, Catton was finished, and he sat back down. The Minister looked at Hermione over lowered glasses. ''Miss Granger, prior to you beginning your interrogation of the defendant, we wish to speak to you about your relationship with him. Did you think it was professional to begin a sexual relationship with him?''

''Sir, it wasn't really beginning it. It was continuing it. We were in a relationship at Hogwarts, but it…drew to a close just before I left to fight Voldemort with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Then, when we met again, it was as though we had never really been separated.'' She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.

''What I fail to understand is why someone of your previous history, would choose someone like Draco Malfoy.''

''That's because you don't understand who he is Minister. I'm the first to admit that he's not perfect, not by a long straw. He can be greedy, angry and lazy, but he's not a killer. That's not in him at all. I think I know him better than anyone in this world. That's why I can defend him, and know that what I'm saying isn't biased. I've seen him at his best and I've seen him at his worst. But I could never believe that he was a murderer. I would trust him with my life.''

''Very touching Miss Granger.'' The Minister paused. ''Very touching. But that has no place in a court of law.''

''Consider it part of my evidence Sir.'' Hermione forced a smile and turned to Draco, praying that she would be able to provide a strong enough case. As she looked at him, grey eyes meeting brown in a flash of complicity and love, a thousand memories ran through her mind. Draco holding her in strong arms, Draco tipping her face towards him, Draco shouting in frustration, Slytherin and Gryffindor robes in a tangled heap on a floor, soft whispers in her ear, kisses that enveloped her and kept her safe. And she knew that she had to save him from prison, do anything that she could to keep him close to her.

''Draco, I know you've already been asked about your time in the Death Eaters, but I need to talk to you about it again.'' Draco nodded at her, giving her an encouraging smile, and she took a deep breath and plunged in again. ''Was being a Death Eater something that you'd ever thought seriously about?''

''I was aware that my father had…high expectations of me, shall we say? He wanted me to join, but it was never something that I would have considered doing on my own.''

''Why was your father's influence over you so strong?''

''I can't really say. But I constantly sought his approval, regardless of the consequences.''

''Ok,'' Hermione took another breath, shocked that she could hear her blood pounding in her ears. ''And how long did it take you after joining the Death Eaters to start regretting it?''

''Probably after the first formal meeting. Up until that point, getting the Mark was something to show off with to my friends, to impress people with. Then I went to the meetings and the reality began to kick in of what I was expected to do. I was at school most of the time, so I was able to avoid the worst of it.''

''By seeking refuge in Miss Granger's arms?'' Catton cut in. The Minister quelled him with a single glance and then turned to Draco.

''Mr Malfoy, the court would like to know the extent of your relationship with Miss Granger.''

''Is that really necessary Sir?'' Hermione asked shrilly.

''I want to know how serious the relationship was, and whether Miss Granger was accepting of your association with the Death Eaters.''

Draco smiled at Hermione. ''I adored her, and I know she adored me. But I wasn't exactly a shining example of humanity. I tried to separate her from her friends, to lead her astray. So she cut off the relationship.''

''She broke off all contact?''

''Yes. Refused to talk to me, ran away from me in corridors. She didn't want to have to.'' Draco looked at Hermione, the memories causing pain to glisten in her eyes. ''Every morning she had tearstains, and despite her best efforts, there was gossip about Hermione Granger constantly crying.''

''She wouldn't put up with a selfish schoolboy?''

''No Sir. And believe me, she approved even less of the Dark Mark.''

The Minister made a note, and once again, rustling whispers filled the chamber. ''Interesting. Very interesting. She never once condoned you joining the Death Eaters, or made any reference to covering up the truth?''

''No. She refused to speak about it, saying that she couldn't reconcile her beliefs with her love for me.''

Further whispers echoed around the room. Hermione's heart dared to lift slightly. Maybe that horrible time, maybe the worst thing that she had ever done, was actually the thing that was going to save Draco. By showing the judges that she wouldn't put up with his bullying, she had shown by implication that she wouldn't have ever condoned Draco being a member of the Death Eaters. Catton's face was sour, able as he was to see his prey slipping away.

''Miss Granger, please continue.''

''You said it was an order to murder someone that caused you to run away. Why?''

For the first time in a long time, Hermione saw a faint pink tinge creep onto Draco's cheeks. He paused for a second, as if unsure about how to word what he was about to say. ''The victim was to be someone that I…had known.''

''Wouldn't that have been the usual situation? I was under the impression that Death Eaters were supposed to have no problem killing their friends, family and acquaintances as long as it was for the glory of Voldemort?''

''I'm not a murderer. I had only ever gone to the meetings and worn a mask. I'd never seen a dead body. Even the torture that was inflicted on the other Death Eaters terrified me. There was no way I would be able to point a wand at someone and kill them.'' He answered candidly.

''Who was the person?'' Hermione asked curiously: this was something that they had never discussed.

Draco gazed at her. ''You.''

Hermione looked at him, her mind completely blank. ''Me?''

''Yes. Voldemort wanted to destroy Potter, and he thought the best way to do that was to kill off all those closest to him. You were the cleverest one, so you had to go first, was the logic behind his choice.''

''And you said no?''

''I wish I'd been that brave! I just waited until Voldemort was gone and then ran. There was no way I'd could have killed you. I had hated you for the way you'd left me, but I still loved you. There was nothing he could have done that would have made me take that back.''

The Minister was scribbling rapidly on the parchment in front of him. ''Miss Granger, I appreciate that this has been a shock for you, but please could you continue?''

Hermione smiled at Draco, her face genuinely happy for the first time since she had entered the wall. Draco felt his heart leap as he watched her eyes light up, and vowed to hold onto that feeling for the rest of his life.

The rest of the day passed quickly, arguments and counter arguments being thrown back and forth, heated words being exchanged, and the Wizengamot whispering more and more as the Minister filled page after page with notes. Finally, he took off his glasses and looked solemnly around the room. ''The Wizengamot will return tomorrow to discuss their verdict. Until that time, the defendant is to be kept in his cell. We will reconvene when a unanimous verdict has been reached.''

The black robed witches and wizards filed out of the chamber, and guards stepped forward to escort Draco back downstairs. Hermione ran forward quickly, and placed a lingering kiss on his lips, causing the guards to look away in embarrassment. ''I can't wait to talk to you properly, but just remember that we've done all we can do now, and it's out of our hands.''

''They'll understand. It'll be ok.'' Draco smiled at her, and both wished they truly felt the confidence that he was trying to project. ''I love you.''

''Love you more.'' She answered simply and watched with a sense of bereavement as he was led away from her into the darkness of the cells.

_**AN: I know at this point my apologies are actually becoming rather redundant, or at least a regular feature of my chapters, but I am truly sorry that it's been so long. I have been incredibly busy with my course (with joys such as EU law), and I have had time to do nothing apart from work, which has been incredibly frustrating. I know (or at least I hope) that everyone will want to know what the verdict on Draco is, so I will endeavour to put the next chapter up really really soon. Thank you so much to all my wonderful readers who have stuck with me through this and who are lovely enough to leave me reviews, which I am always so thrilled to get. Lots of love...petitesorciere xxx**_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

_''It is good to be without temptations but it is not good to be without vices.''_ Walter Bagehot.

* * *

_Draco stood in front of her, his lips quirked in the beautiful smile that she spent her days longing for. He reached out his hand to her, and just as she stepped forward to step into his embrace, steel grey bars slammed down between them. She ran forward, clutching at the bars, desperately seeking to thrust her body through the small gaps, only able to see her vision of Draco fading into blackness. She crumpled to the floor, her heart ripping inside her chest as Draco's voice echoed around her, accusing her of failing him._

Hermione jolted from her nightmare, her sheets crumpled in tightly clenched fists, tears streaming down her face, her throat raw from sobbing in her sleep. No matter how much she tried to reassure herself, and tell herself that she had done all that she could humanely do, she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow she had doomed the love of her life. By not finding the one case that would have acted as a perfect example of precedence, by not loving him hard enough, by not stopping him being a Death Eater, by staying in his cell over night, by giving Catton ammunition, by walking away from him two years ago. If she could go back to that moment when she had gently extricated herself from his warm grasp and slid out of the door, leaving him behind her, she would have slapped herself silly, just to make herself feel a fraction of the pain that she was feeling now.

Standing up, wrapping her quilt around herself, she padded out into her sitting room and sat down on the sofa, staring blankly into the cold dark room. If she lost Draco, this would be what her life would be like, she realised. Sleepless nights, alone in a cold flat. The epitome of spinsterhood, and she would have only herself to blame. She didn't even have a photo of him, she realised, and at that thought began to cry again; great, heaving sobs that racked her entire body. She was bawling silently, unable to find the strength to give voice to the howl of despair that she needed to release so badly.

Rationally, she was telling herself that nothing was over until it was over, and that there was no point in jumping to such awful conclusions before the verdict had even been reached, but every time she tried to stop crying, further floods of grief flooded over her, leaving her helpless in the grip of a sorrow that she could barely comprehend.

* * *

_She was standing next to him, her brown eyes bright as she smiled at him, stepping forward to gently kiss his cheek. As he turned his face so that he could kiss his lips, strong arms clamped around his elbow, dragging him away from her. As he struggled against the grasp that was dragging him into blackness, he saw more hands clustered around Hermione, soothing her, trying to make her forget him. There was nothing he could do, and he was stuck between conflicting tensions: wanting her to have a normal, happy life, regardless of what he thought, and wanting to keep clutched closely to himself for the rest of their lives. Before he could formulate any plan to save them both, he was locked into a grey fog that deprived him of sight and freedom. All he could hear was her crying, and all he knew was that he could do nothing to help her anymore._

Draco sat up, leaning his back against the wall, and contemplated punching it. Helplessness had never been his style, and left him more infuriated than he would have thought possible. All he was able to focus on was the fact that soon he might have nothing left of Hermione but memories. If everything went wrong tomorrow, he would be incarcerated in prison, while she was imprisoned in her day-to-day life. The constant separation would have no end in sight, and they would just have to eke out their existences through visiting hours. Or, Hermione would be able to move on, finding normality with a decent man who would be locked away behind bars like a dangerous criminal. He stared at the Dark Mark on his arm, the cause of the majority of his troubles, and thought about how he could ever have considered the mark to be something worth getting. If he could go back to that moment in time when his father had summoned him, and taken him in front of Voldemort, he would have knocked himself out, anything to get out of that horrible chain of events that lead him to his current situation.

Looking at the pattern of light cast from the lit hallway outside his cell, Draco reflected that his dreams of freedom had never seemed further away than on the night before he received the judgement that might set him free. All the dreams that he had had for his life with Hermione were as ethereal as a ghost, and for once, it seemed right to him that they were like that. What was there in this world of political motivations and bias to suggest that he should be allowed to have any chance of freedom?

Tipping his head against the wall, he wondered what he would do if he was pronounced guilty. Cry? Shout his innocence? Be dragged away kicking and screaming? Try and run to Hermione? Appeal for help to anyone? Punch Catton? All seemed completely feasible options. Nothing was certain, and Draco Malfoy, the boy who had always been so sure about his future, had grown into a man who was now painfully aware of the fact that nothing was guaranteed.

* * *

Hermione slipped through the corridors, hoping to avoid any guards, her eyes red and puffy. She arrived at Draco's cell and knocked gently on the glass. He sat up straight away, showing her that sleep had eluded him just as much as it had eluded her.

"Hi,'' she whispered. "What are you still doing awake?''

"Same thing as you probably." He stood up and walked towards the door. "Are you coming in?"

Her eyes welled up with yet more tears. "I can't."

"Of course you can, don't be silly," he cajoled, alarmed to see her tears, and desperate to hold her.

"No, you don't understand." She let out a juddering little gasp that nearly broke his heart. "Now that I've finished defending you in the trial, they've removed my security clearance for your cell. I'm stuck out here."

Draco stared at her, unable to find any words to express what he was feeling. He felt like he was going to explode with rage. They kept finding ways to take the most precious thing in his life away from him. "They can't do that!"

"Unfortunately, they can." She whispered, her face close to the glass as she desperately tried to find some way to get closer to him. "They can and they have." She lifted her hand and pressed it up against the glass.

Draco half laughed and pressed his hand up against hers, wishing they weren't separated by the cold, unfeeling pane of glass. "So they've reduced us to corny expressions of longing now?"

"The hits just keep on coming, don't they?" She tried to inject some kind of mirth into her voice but failed miserably. Resting her head against the door, she let a few more tears trickle down her face.

"Hey," he said softly, not caring about his own plight, just wanting to make sure that she was ok. "Come on lawyer-girl, you've done an amazing job."

"And what if I haven't?" Her head jerked up, and she looked fiercely at him. "What if you end up in here forever? I'll never forgive myself."

"Yeah, but it's me in here. Not you. So stop panicking. Just my life ruined."

"And you don't think mine will be? How the hell am I meant to live without you?"

"You thought you could do it once. I'm sure you'll be fine." He shot at her, unbelievably elated when her head jerked up with the familiar fire in her eyes.

"You can be such an unbelievable idiot sometimes! If you hadn't been such a prick, I wouldn't have had to leave!"

"Well, you shouldn't have been so incredibly challenging and gorgeous. It's all your fault." But the recognizable smirk was already on his lips, taking the sting out of the bickering. "That's the look I wanted to see. What's all this pathetic crying about Granger?"

She smiled back at him. "It's nice to know that prison doesn't stop you being irritating Malfoy."

"It's my speciality." He pressed his face closer to the glass. "Hermione, I promise you, everything will be ok."

"Do you know that?"

"Always wanting to know the concrete answer. No, I don't know for sure that I'll get out of here, but everything will be ok, no matter what. We'll get through it somehow, no matter what that means doing."

She nodded and stroked his face through the glass. "I just wish I could come in."

"You're not alone in that wish. How do you look good even when you're getting snot and tears all over my cell door?"

She laughed properly, and sniffed hard. "I'm not getting snot everywhere!"

"Yeah yeah. Hermione, I love you but I'm not going to let you spend the night out in the corridor."

"You can't make me go."

"I'm sure I can think of something."

"Draco?"

"Hermione."

"Are you scared? Honestly?"

"Absolutely terrified." His grey eyes met hers, and she could seek the fear in them. "I don't want to be in here all my life."

"Then why are you just listening to me moan? You should moan back!"

"I want to make sure that you're ok. You seem to be getting a far worse deal out of this than seems fair."

"I don't care." She leaned forward and looked straight at him. "I love you. And I am going to love you, no matter what happens. But we don't need to worry, because everything will be ok. It has to be."

He nodded solemnly. "Go home Hermione. Please. Sleep."

She smiled at him. "We've got to be ok."

"We will."

She mouthed 'I love you' at him, and slid away into the night, hoping against hope that the hearing the next morning would bring them the result that they so desperately needed to hear.

_**AN: Hey everyone, just a quick little chapter that I hope you enjoyed. The next chapter I put up should be the last one for this story (providing I don't have some unplanned flash of genius...yeah, right), so make the most of it! Anyway, please please please review, because they make me everso happy. Also, for those of you who are long-time readers and enjoyed my story Magic Mistletoe, you may be interested to know that I am going to be doing another Christmas special this year. And yes, if I say so myself, it will be rather excellent, because the idea is just fantastic lol. And if you haven't read it, I would strongly advise you go and read it because I am a shameless self-promoter lol. You can get to all my other stories by clicking on my author name and going to my profile. Anyway, love etc...petitesorciere xxx**_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

_"Every conquering temptation represents a new fund of moral energy. Every trial endured and weathered in the right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before." William Butler Yeats_

Hermione sat back against her pillows, watching the sun come up over the grey horizon through her open curtains. She hadn't slept since she got back from the prison, her mind filled with images of Draco's face separated from her. Wrapping the quilt around her, she wandered through to her kitchen, put the kettle on and stared at it absentmindedly, not hearing the water heating up. Her heart was constantly racing. Every time she tried to calm down, an icy hand clamped around her heart and set it speeding again. There was nothing that she could do to reassure herself. The culmination of this whole horrific episode was something that she dreaded and anticipated in equal measures. It would all end today, whether for better or for worse, and she was utterly powerless to do anything more.

The click of the kettle brought her back down to earth, and she poured the water on top of a tea bag, inattentively swirling the liquid around. Looking down at it, she felt a sudden swell of nausea rise in her throat: it looked vile. The idea of pouring it down her throat was enough to make her push the cup away and run back into her bedroom. Staring into her mirror, fighting to quell the movement of her throat. Her eyes were rimmed with violet shadows, making them look huge in her pale face. Her lips were colourless and her hair was hanging limply onto her shoulders. She thought miserably that Draco shouldn't have to be confronted with that if he was going into prison. Or even if he was acquitted. Coming home to a hag – how charming for him. She looked at her wardrobe, wondering if she had the energy to get dressed. Maybe she could just go in her pyjamas and quilt. It wasn't like anything really mattered any more, especially if she was going to lose Draco.

Shaking her head, she made the effort to pull on a pair of trousers and a shirt, brushing her hair into a more presentable state, she stared at her bedroom clock. There were still three long hours to go before she could go to the Ministry, and hear the results of the trial. It was intolerable. Why would time fly so quickly when she didn't want it to, when she was curled into Draco's arm, but drag unbearably when she was faced with their separation? Sitting in front of her window, she watched as the sun gradually rose higher, dragging itself above the wispy clouds.

* * *

Draco woke up and thought that today would be the last time he woke up in this cell. He would either be free or in a considerably worse cell by this time tomorrow. He would have Hermione with him, or he would have lost her forever. He couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't ask her to stay faithful to him when he couldn't ever see her beyond the windows of his cell. He should set her free, like he should have done those two long years ago.

Crossing his arms behind his head, straining to keep himself calm, he wondered how long it would be until he found out what his fate would be. Would he be able to see Hermione before they went into the court chamber? He supposed not. Why would the Wizengamot make the experience any easier for either of them? Standing up, he began pacing his cell, his footsteps wearing a path of desperation into the grim tiles.

There was nothing that he dared to hope for any more. Everything that he had wanted for slipped through his fingers like water, so what would make this situation any different? He could see the contempt in his judges' eyes, making their decisions before they even heard what he had to say. Dragging a hand through his tangled hair, he closed his eyes and tried to resign himself to the only bleak future that he could see ahead of him.

* * *

Hermione tried to muster some form of authority as she walked through the halls of the Ministry; trying to tell everyone around her that she was utterly confident that she was going to win this case and be reunited with Draco, with absolutely no flack from anyone. Breathing in deeply, she picked up her pace slightly, able to see the chamber door ahead of her.

Her heart crashed within her chest as she saw two men standing beside the door, one with jet-black hair, and one with flaming red. "What are you two doing here?"

"We've come to see Malfoy go to prison," Ron answered, his eyes spiteful.

Hermione blinked slowly, unable to think of any retort. "You know what Ron? Say what you want. I'm exhausted. I'm heartbroken. I can't think straight any more because I'm constantly worrying. I love him, regardless of what you say or do. And I think Draco is innocent, and I will stand by him, even if no one else believes his story. And I will stand by him until I die. I gave him up once for you, and you've hardly made it worth my while, have you?" Pushing past him, she walked into the chamber, feeling that some shred of her dignity had been salvaged.

Her two best friends watched her back departing, and looked at each other. There was nothing that they could say to each other, so they just followed her in, sitting quietly at one side. She was sitting near the front, her eyes heavy with the dusting of shadows beneath them. It was heartbreaking for them to watch her, and know, deep in their hearts, that they could have eased some of her suffering by giving her some small amount of support. But it was never easy to turn around and admit that a deeply entrenched hatred of someone had been wrong all along, and it became even more difficult when there was a fear that that foe would take away a treasured friend.

Hermione's heart was thumping so hard in her chest that she thought it was going to explode out onto the desk in front of her. She was sure that people were looking at her funnily, wondering what the constant throbbing was. Burying her head in her hands, she vowed that she wouldn't look up again until Draco was in the room; she just couldn't focus on anything other than her own fear.

Just as worried as she was, Draco was pacing backwards and forwards in his cell, his pace growing more and more agitated as the seconds ticked away. Just as he thought he was about to punch the wall in frustration, the guards came to his cell, and opened the door, guiding him through the corridors for the last time. They didn't chain him but were clustered tightly around him, clearly ready to clap the manacles on him should the situation require it. He held his hands rigidly at his side, raising his chin proudly, seeking to retain some vestige of the sleek grace which had previously been his trademark.

Hermione heard the heavy clunk of marching footsteps, and raised her head to see Draco being escorted into the room. His blonde hair was gleaming slightly in the dim light of the chamber, and the tight line of his jaw showed the tension that he was feeling. She had never wanted more in her entire life to run to him and bury her face in his chest, letting his arms wrap around her and soothe away all the worry while she stroked his strong back. Smiling weakly at him, she tried to convey just how desperate she was for this to go well. They were past the point of telling each other that they would be ok, and that everything would be fine. There were no guarantees that they would hear what they needed to hear, there was no promise that they would be able to spend their lives together, there was no assurance that anyone would let them forget what had passed here and let them live a normal life. All their lives depended on at this point was hearing the two most important words in the English language: not guilty.

Draco was left standing in the centre of the chamber, accusing eyes glaring down at him. Hermione clasped her hands together so tightly that her nails were gouging crescents into her palms, as the Minister of Magic stood up, resplendent in his robes.

"The Wizengamot has reached its decision."

Hermione thought she was going to pass out.

"It goes without saying that being a Death Eater has long been considered one of the most heinous crimes within the wizarding community. This society has consistently been associated with violence, torture and death."

Draco bit his lip to try and stop his breath escaping too loudly.

"It is not the policy of the Ministry to pardon members of such groups, neither has it ever been."

Hermione bit her lip as tears spilled out of her eyes and streamed down her face.

Draco saw his life crashing around him as steel bars slammed down.

But the Minister was drawing breath to carry on speaking.

"However, the Ministry has always been working on the assumption that involvement with such groups was entirely voluntary."

Hermione raised her eyes to stare at the Minister, barely daring to breathe.

"The testimony which we have heard, has led us to believe that the defendant's involvement in the group was not entirely willing."

Draco sucked in a deep breath and began praying again.

"And as such, we do not believe that it would be acceptable for us to punish him. The faith which Miss Granger has shown in Mr Malfoy, and his honesty when answering our questions has led us to believe that he is entirely innocent of all the atrocities of which he was accused."

There was a stunned silence in the court.

"Therefore, he is hereby acquitted of all charges."

There was an even more stunned silence in the court. Then Hermione screamed and flung herself out of her seat and into Draco's arms. The guards melted away from them, and they spun around and around, clutching at each other, laughing, crying and kissing each other. The photographers took countless photos, the reporters scrawled quick notes into their pads, observers chattered together, discussing the verdict, and the Wizengamot looked down with strangely observant eyes. Draco's wand was handed back to him as Harry and Ron looked at each other, caught Hermione's eye, nodded and left the room in silence, unable to say anything.

Hermione suddenly became aware of the intense scrutiny on them, and grabbed Draco's hand, pulling him out of the chamber. They ran along the corridors, quickly apparating into Hermione's apartment as soon as they were able.

Draco stood, staring around a room that wasn't blocked with bars, revelling in the freedom. Then, remembering where he was, he turned back to Hermione, gathered her up and kissed away the tearstains on her face. She smiled and pulled his lips to hers, tasting him, smelling him, touching him. Their first truly free embrace in over two years brought them closer than they had ever been before, linking them beyond the pain of their first love, the passage of time and the torture of the trial. As they held each other in their arms, they knew that there was no way they could ever face separation again. To take away one part would mean leaving the whole destroyed.

As they lay together, entangled in the intimacy that only true lovers could have, Draco kissed the top of Hermione's head and asked "what do we do now then, Miss Granger?"

She kissed him back, and pulled his arm tighter around her. "We live happily ever after."

_**AN: So, it's the end of yet another era! Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with me through this story, even through my terrible delays (for which I am once again, very sorry), and I really hope you've enjoyed reading it. I had to give them their happy ending this time - we're all romantics at heart. Anyway, I'm going to be posting my Christmas special soon, which will be called The Secret Snowflake, and then after that I'll be starting a new story which will be called Forbidden Fruit, so put me on your author alert, if you want to know when they go up. Also, if you're one of my new readers, I've got quite a few other stories up on my profile here, so feel free to check those out. Finally, please, please, please, please review, I'm so grateful to all of my reviewers (if you reviewed the last chapter and didn't get a response off me, I'm really sorry, was being funny and wouldn't let me reply for some reason, but I am very grateful). As always, all my love...petitesorciere xxx**_


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